The Last Mile
by TheDoctorAndSarah
Summary: For the last 20 years Sarah Jane has been married to a man who appeared on her doorstep with no memory. Now, in a time of crisis, it's time to find out just who he really is - or was. But is the price too high? SJ, 10, Brigadier, Jack, Harry
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHORS' NOTE:**

Well, we are finally here: the very last story of this arc, in which we have just one rule: it's all canon. If you've just joined us, this series begins with "The Long Road Home," in which Sarah Jane finds a man with no memory bleeding on her doorstep. The following stories, "Be Careful What You Wish For," "Five Doctors and a Baby," and "A Complicated Space-Time Event" chronicle their adventures, and now we are ready to wrap things up.

As we said, the rule is that ultimately, everything in this series will fit with canon, as far as what has appeared ONSCREEN **IN DOCTOR WHO**. Please note that while we WILL be conforming to Torchwood onscreen canon, we specifically said that **we are NOT conforming to The Sarah Jane Adventures**, so please don't try and figure out how we're going to get Luke to the Bubble Shock factory. :) (Everything else is fair game, though!)

At any rate, we've been promising you that the 10th Doctor would show up at some point, if he wasn't around already, and this is the story. The question is … when? Is John Tinker really the 10th Doctor? Is he the duplicate? Is he someone else entirely? We already know how it's going to end, but we're interested in what you _think_ will happen, and what you _hope_ will happen.

We'd like to think that this story stands on its own, but we do encourage you to at least go back and read "The Long Road Home" and "Be Careful What You Wish For" before you start, as they do lay a LOT of groundwork.

Finally, by popular request we are returning to our regular Wednesday/Saturday posting schedule, so this one should just move along pretty quickly.

Thanks for sticking with us, and your reviews and comments are always appreciated!

* * *

**London, 1997**

John Tinker looked at his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time as he sat in the hallway outside Brigadier Bambera's office. Sarah Jane was almost an hour late.

He was starting to worry. She knew how important this meeting was; there must be a good reason she wasn't here yet, and that could only mean one thing: trouble.

* * *

Sarah Jane came hurrying down the corridor. "I'm so sorry, John, I just lost track of time." She ran up and hugged him tightly. This was the third time in the past two years that an investigation had gotten out of hand, and she was sure he was going to try and put his foot down.

He hugged her back. "Lost track of time? You didn't answer your mobile, and I was worried sick! What happened?"

"Nothing too serious, John, a couple of thugs tried to stop me, that's all. I was about to escape when Jack showed up. It's a good thing he was in town."

"Sarah Jane," he said, ignoring her comment about Jack, "the phrases 'nothing too serious' and 'a couple of thugs' don't belong in the same sentence. This is getting out of hand. You've had so many phones confiscated I'm beginning to think we should buy stock in Motorola. We can't keep on like this."

There it is, she thought. "It's alright," she insisted. "I just left my mobile in the car." She girded her loins; she loved her work as an investigative journalist, and as much as she loved John, he was just going to have to understand that.

He paused. "You do still have the car, right? It hasn't been pushed off a cliff, or blown up, or flattened in a car crusher or anything?"

She laughed. "No, it's fine, everything is alright."

John hugged her again. "I'm just glad you're alright." He was quiet for a moment. "Here I was sitting here thinking about how ironic it would be to lose you just when I was retiring to spend more time with you."

She enjoyed his embrace. Had he seemed so … frail when she'd left that morning? Or had it been the stress of worrying about her? She held him out at arm's length to look at him. She was so used to seeing him, day in and day out, that in her head he was still the relatively young man she'd met two decades ago. Now, in his worry, she saw what everyone else saw: a man approaching his mid-sixties and in ill health.

'Ill health,' she repeated to herself. 'Talk about an understatement.'

Sarah Jane looked in his eyes and saw all of the love that was there. She knew he was unhappy with her putting herself in danger - again. Yet he still loved her, and he wanted her to be happy. And there was only one way to do that.

"Well, then," she said, "I'll just have to retire with you."

He did a double-take. "Wait, what?"

"If you're going to retire, I'm going to retire. I still have the books, and if you're going to be home to spend more time with me, then I suppose I'd better be there."

He didn't say anything, a relieved smile crossing his face as he kissed her and held her tight. "I love you, Sarah Jane Tinker. And I love my life."

* * *

Until her adventure in Cadbury with the Doctor and the recently un-retired Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart several months ago, Brigadier Winifred Bambera had tried to keep UNIT's business in Britain to mostly typical United Nations-type business, leaving the more extraordinary events to other organizations. Since then, however, she'd taken Lethbridge-Stewart's advice and made more use of her "Xenotechnology Expert" and unofficial scientific advisor, allowing UNIT's British division to become involved in cases she'd never before contemplated. "I'll tell you the truth, Mr. Tinker," she said, looking at the collection of objects on her desk, "I have absolutely no idea how this collection of rubbish was supposed to destroy the Earth, but I'm willing to take your word for it."

John Tinker nodded. "Thank you, ma'am."

Bambera sighed. "I can see why Lethbridge-Stewart and Crichton put such faith in you. There aren't too many people who can say they've had such a direct role in saving the world so many times, particularly staying off to the sidelines as you manage to do. Are you sure I can't tempt you to come back to work full-time?"

John smiled. "I'm afraid that I'm not the one you need to convince."

Sarah Jane lovingly squeezed his shoulder. "Sorry Brigadier, but you'll simply have to settle for John working part time. We really can't go against his doctor's orders to get more rest. So that means that I've got first dibs on John's time from now on. We're planning to spend more time with each other and our family."

"We've got teenagers now, and that's enough work for anybody," John smiled. "Though I admit sometimes it's easier to save the world."

"I'll have to take your word for that, Mr. Tinker." Bambera looked over a file on her desk. "In the meantime, I suppose we'll have to settle for your services on an 'on call' basis." She stood up and held out a hand to him. "Enjoy your retirement."

He shook her hand, "Thank you, ma'am, I am very much looking forward to it."

She shook Sarah Jane's hand too, and then both Mr. and Mrs. Tinker said their goodbyes and headed out the door.

Harry Sullivan walked up to them, smiling. "Ah, my favorite couple. I say, John old man, since I'm in town for a visit, can I trouble you one last time before you walk out the door? I promise it'll just take a moment or so."

"Harry!" John said, shaking his hand. "I didn't know you were coming into town! Of course, of course, whatever you like."

"I have everything set up in this room," Harry said as he motioned for John to follow him.

As soon as John walked into the room he could see a huge sign saying "Good Luck, John, We'll Miss You." He looked around to see party decorations all over the room as dozens of old friends and co-workers suddenly shouted out, "Surprise!"

John jumped, startled. "My goodness!" he said. "I'm just retiring, I'm not leaving town," he joked. Still, he found himself a bit overwhelmed, and looked for a chair.

Harry rushed to his side. "Are you all right, old boy? Do you need your medication, or to go to sick bay?"

"Harry," John said, catching his breath, "you haven't been gone SO long that a little surprise like this is going to kill me." He laughed. "I'm just … it's wonderful to see everyone," he said. He looked sidelong at Harry. "Heavens, Harry, do I look THAT bad?"

"Not at all buddy, in fact, I think you look great," Jack Harkness said as he walked up to them. He looked over at Harry. "Wouldn't you say he looks great for his age? But then who wouldn't look great if they had the radiantly beautiful Sarah Jane Tinker standing by their side. Hello, gorgeous," Jack said as he leaned over to kiss Sarah's cheek.

Sarah was holding John's hand and didn't let go of it as she kissed Jack's cheek in return.

Jack could see that she was quietly taking John's pulse without arousing his suspicion.

"Of course you're doing well, darling. And after today, you haven't a care in the world," Sarah said, smiling at her husband. Then she looked over at Harry and smiled nervously to let him know John's pulse had slowed down to a reasonable rate. Suddenly she was grateful that she'd decided to retire and spend more time with him.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," John said, standing up and heading for the punch bowl, "one near heart attack and everyone treats you like you're sick or something. I'm just going down to on-call, I'm not disappearing." He turned to face Sarah Jane directly, and smiled. "Now is this a surprise party or a funeral?"

"A surprise party, my love," answered Sarah Jane as she headed over to the punch bowl with him.

"Let's have some music, and bring on the dancing girls," smiled Jack.

"You better be joking," said Sarah over her shoulder at their old friend.

"I, for one, am hoping he isn't," smiled Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart as he entered the room. His wife Doris playfully slapped him, then walked over to John and Sarah to give them both a hug.

"Brigadier!" John shouted. "Goodness, it really is old home week."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," the Brig said.

"Did someone say dancing girls," asked John and Sarah's son Sid as he walked in behind the Brig.

"You're too young to drive here on your own, you're too young for dancing girls," John said, giving his 15-year old a hug. "Where are your siblings?"

"In the hall talking with Brigadier Bambera," he sighed. He spotted Jack and headed over to him, smiling. "How's it going, Uncle Jack," he asked in his best "fellow man of the world" voice.

"Hey, Sid," Jack smiled. "Pretty good, have some punch, the dancing girls are later."

Luke and Lisa Ann came in and walked over to their parents to give them a hug.

"Right, there's Sid and Uncle Jack," said Lisa Ann as she rolled her eyes. "They're probably talking about the fast life. You know, fast cars, fast music and fast women."

"Lisa Ann," Sarah scolded her. "You're far too precocious for your age. Kindly speak like a polite young lady and keep your opinions of your brother to yourself.

"Sorry mother, but he's such an annoying git at times," Lisa Ann said. "Don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior for you and daddy, but really you need to put a leash on Sid, mum.

Sarah Jane turned her head to look at what her daughter was talking about. There was Sid with a glass of punch in his hand, trying to look very grown up as he chatted up one of the secretaries.

She sighed. "John, go get him away from that poor girl and have a word with him, please." She thought about asking Jack to talk to him, but knew that Jack would end up trying to pick up the secretary as well. She shook her head as she wondered what the next few years would be like with a house full of teenagers. She could swear she felt grey hair trying to push it's way out onto her head.

She and John knew they were good kids, but they were growing up and with that came all the worries, stress and the emotional growing pains of all teens. Sid fancied himself a ladies man, Lisa Ann of course, saw herself as chic and sophisticated, and Luke, well, he was still trying to find himself and where he fit in to the grand scheme of life.

Sarah was his mother, of course, but his biological father's DNA had turned out over the years to be completely dominant, and Luke was 100% Time Lord, as though he'd been cloned from the Doctor instead of fathered by him. That meant he'd aged only half as fast as his human siblings.

Looking as if he were ten when he was actually twenty made life especially difficult for Luke. He was handling it as best he could, but it was far from easy. Luke hated being treated like a child by people who didn't know him, and rightfully so. There were days when he would become sullen and quiet. Those were the days he spent in the attic, his private area where he could throw himself into his computer until he felt he could face the world again. His parents had learned that it was best to let him work things out for himself unless he came to them for guidance.

On the whole, Luke wasn't an unhappy person, he was just on his own level and not many people were his equal. He loved talking to his computer friends in something he called a chat room. It was only then that he felt as if he was just like everyone else and his outward appearance didn't mean a thing.

But still, here, in an environment where most people knew him - and had all his life - he felt comfortable, and he was smiling when Brigadier Bambera entered the room and began tapping a spoon on a glass.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" she asked, standing on a chair so that the assembled crowd could see her.

John looked over, curious.

"I have an announcement to make. Mister Tinker, could you please come here?"

John looked at her and then at Sarah Jane.

"Don't ask me," she shrugged. "I honestly have know idea what this is all about."

John headed towards Bambera.

Sarah Jane decided that she should be with him and quickly caught up with him. "Well, we're in this together, aren't we," she said with a sheepish smile.

"Always," he said, squeezing her arm. He smiled at Bambera. "You can't fire me, I'm already retired."

Everyone, including Bambera, laughed. "Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, could you please come here as well? I'd like you to take a hand in this with me."

The Brig approached skeptically. "You can't fire me either, I outrank you."

"Fire you? On the contrary, I want to beg you to come back and take this lot off my hands," answered Bambera.

"Oh no," the Brig said, "I have quite enough on my plate in Geneva, and now Peru seems to be heating up. I'm afraid you're stuck with this batch of miscreants." He wondered silently if he would even have been able to force himself to get away for this occasion, had he not already been on his way into London for the funeral of a friend.

When everyone had finished laughing, Bambera put her hand on John's shoulder. "As I'm sure your family and friends here know, Mr. Tinker, you are an amazing man. You have worked quietly and behind the scenes here at UNIT for many years, and yet, you have managed to make many significant and amazing changes both for UNIT and the world. You could have made a huge amount of money for yourself in your time here, but you chose instead to selflessly serve your country and your fellow man.

"You may have thought that your many good deeds have gone unnoticed," she continued, "but I can assure you, they have not. You have earned the regard and respect of everyone here who has had the privilege of working with you. Your many innovations have also come to the attention of Her Majesty the Queen, and she has asked me to give you this reward with her most grateful thanks to you." She opened a silk box with a ribbon inside it, then turned to Lethbridge-Stewart. "Sir, would you kindly share this happy task with me?"

Outwardly, the Brig smiled as he approached. Inwardly, he groaned. He'd worked hard to make sure that Crichton had known to keep the Tinker family "under the radar"; apparently, since Bambera had been initially uninterested in the type of mission where it mattered, Crichton hadn't felt it important to pass on that particular bit of advice to his protege. It was something the Brig would have the deal with later. "If anyone deserves it," he told John, "it's you."

For a moment, John didn't say anything, just staring at the box and its contents. "I … I don't know what to say," he finally squeaked.

"Well you gotta give some kind of speech," Jack said. "I think it's the law."

"Well, I …" John sat back down, still staring at the box. "When I first came here," he said quietly, "I had no idea who I was. I was literally a man with no past. I could have been anyone. I could have been a … psychotic axe murderer, or a spy, or an evil alien or something. But you all -" he squeezed Sarah Jane's hand "- all of you, you took me into your hearts and you gave me a future. You gave me a life, and a purpose, and I can't thank you all enough."

Sarah Jane squeezed John's hand in return and she leaned into her husband. He supported everything she did - even when he didn't agree that she should be doing it - and now it was his turn. She was so proud of him.

She looked around the room. They were surrounded by family and friends. If only John knew how much he had given her the day he came into her life. His love was everything to her. Because of him, she had an amazing husband, children and security. Her house had become a home, a place she loved to be instead of just a place to retreat from the world. He had brought out the best in her; she only hoped she had done as much for him. He deserved the best.

Jack started clapping and the room erupted in applause.

* * *

The party didn't run too late; most everyone there still had work to do, the kids had school the next day, and Harry finally sent John home to get some rest. That left Harry, Jack, and the Brigadier sitting amongst the confetti, each nursing a glass of freshly spiked punch.


	2. Chapter 2

"So Jack," Harry said, "Sarah was a bit miffed at you for dragging her out of that warehouse this afternoon." He dropped into an impression of her. "'I had everything under control, I don't know why he had to come in and act like some sort of cowboy and drag me out like I was a child.' Oh, was she angry with you," he laughed.

"I know," Jack said, "but her idea of 'under control' and reality aren't always the same thing." He laughed. "Not to say she hadn't already pretty much gotten free, but it **was** four against one until I got there."

"Yes, well, if you'd ever seen her use Venusian aikido, you'd know that four against one is unfair to the four. I'm telling you, Jack, she was more than a match for that lot. But speaking of our fair Mrs. Tinker, she's starting to get a bit suspicious of the fact that every time things get a little out of hand you seem to turn up. She thinks you're having her followed."

"No," he smiled, "though that might be a little easier. Truth is that John put a satellite tracker in the watch he made her to mask her temporal signal."

They laughed. "He'd better hope she never finds out," Alistair said.

"You've got that right," Jack answered. "So I hear about Africa from Harry all the time, but didn't get to ask you," Jack turned to Alistair, "how's Peru?"

"Humid," answered the Brig with a slight twitch of his mustache before he took another long sip of his punch.

"Beautiful country," Jack said. "I was out there … oh, a while ago. You shouldn't be bored," he smiled.

"Hardly," he said. "Among other matters, your friends at Torchwood manage to keep us on our toes quite a bit."

"And speaking of Torchwood…" Harry said morosely.

"I know," Jack said. He looked expectantly at the Brig. "A commendation? Really?"

Lethbridge-Stewart shook his head. "Yes, well, unfortunately I had no idea that was going to happen. He more than deserves it, of course, but had they asked, I would have advised against it. The last thing John needs right now is that sort of attention."

"Sad, really," Harry said. "I mean, the man does deserve the attention, and more. He's done more for this planet in the past 20 years or so than … well, there's only one person I can think of that might beat that record, and we haven't seen much of him lately, now have we?"

"Actually," the Brigadier said, staring at his punch, "I saw him briefly a few months ago."

Both men almost choked on their drinks and put their glasses down simultaneously.

"You saw him," sputtered Jack. "are you telling us you actually saw and talked to the Doctor?"

"Why didn't you say something about this earlier, like when we first got here," said Harry. "I don't understand why you waited all this time to bring it up."

"Well, I certainly didn't want to say anything in front of Sarah Jane," he said. "And frankly, I'm not entirely certain I should be mentioning it now. At the time I'd mentioned the circus to him and he got very upset because he said it must be in his future and I mustn't tell him anything about it. He was clear, in fact, that I shouldn't mention seeing him to any of his friends, but I suppose I've gone and broken **that**, now haven't I," he said, toasting them with his spiked punch. "In fact, it was that particular business that convinced me that I wasn't ready to retire."

"And just what 'particular business' might that be," Jack asked.

"Oh, magical swords that turn out to be alien weaponry, the Doctor as Merlin, alien invasions, the usual," he said. "But I realized that I missed it, you know. The excitement. I just wasn't ready to stop and roll the lawn to entertain myself."

"The Doctor as Merlin, I say, I should have like to have seen that," chuckled Harry. "He wasn't really Merlin was he? I mean, that whole Camelot story is just legend, right?"

"Well you know what they say, there's a grain of truth in every legend. But when the Doctor's involved, there's no end of trouble. Unfortunately, that's also how I became acquainted with Brigadier Bambera, and how she became acquainted with the world according to the Doctor. That's why she's been utilizing John's services so much these past few months."

Jack shook his head. "And SJ and John haven't got the first clue about it. And I suppose the Doctor's gone again and with no hint of when he'll be back. Just great, at this rate I'll never catch up with him again." Jack took a huge swallow of his drink and then sat back with his arms behind his head and pursed his lips.

"Be careful what you wish for," the Brig said. "It's not that it's his fault, but if the Doctor's involved, it's almost never good."

"No, but it's fun," Jack said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry and the Brig laughed, shaking their heads. "You have a strange idea of fun," Harry said. "Either that or you really need to get a life."

"I think Mister Harkness has too much of a life," the Brig said. "That's more likely his problem."

"I think you boys should just agree to keep a closer eye on the Tinker family and stop talking shop," Doris suddenly piped in. "I've been sitting here listening to the three of you while I rested my feet and I think it's time to go home. In case you lot haven't noticed," she said slipping her shoes on, "the party is over."

"She's right," Jack said, reluctantly standing up. "Let's hope it's just this party she's talking about."

* * *

To say that Horace Dewhurst's mood was "dark" would be like calling the surface of the sun "a little warm." He paced back and forth, periodically pausing to sit at his desk and attempt to get work done before shouting an obscenity and slamming his fists on his desk.

Occasionally he would buzz his secretary and demand, "Is he here yet?"

The answer, so far, had unanimously been, "Not yet, sir," and Dewhurst could feel his blood pressure rise with each iteration.

Finally, **finally**, the door opened.

Fletcher Rainsford walked into the room, his face clearing exhibiting his mood. He didn't bother trying to hide his disdain and anger at being summoned to the head office. He had enough on the department chief to hang him so he didn't bother with the niceties or the respect the 'great man' was used to. "This had better be good, Dewhurst."

"Don't take that tone with me, Rainsford, I've got enough on my mind without your attitude," Dewhurst snapped.

"I'll take any tone I please with you Dewhurst, or have you forgotten about the Littleton incident so quickly," he said in an icy voice.

Dewhurst didn't even bother to react. "Keep it up and we'll both be out of a job." He handed the man the folder that had consumed his morning. "Another incident neatly solved by UNIT. The UN is thrilled. The Paris office didn't even get to Belgium before it was resolved. Even the Queen is pleased," he said, grabbing back the file and turning it to the last page. He waited for the name on the proclamation to sink in.

Rainsford looked at the file and after a few moments grinned with evil delight. "Ah, my old friend John Tinker," he said, dragging out the name as if he where letting it sink into his taste buds. He flipped through the pages. "But I don't see any mention of Wentworth in this report. Aren't you worried about him interfering the way he usually does?"

Dewhurst smiled a rare smile. "There we have one of the rare high points of my week. Wentworth died last Friday. The funeral is tomorrow. So there's nothing to stop us now from doing what must be done and **neutering** UNIT once and for all. We just have to figure out how to do it without arousing the suspicion of the crown." He poured himself a drink. "It's like the Doctor all over again. Elizabeth falls all over him. She won't hear a word against him." He leaned forward into Rainsford's personal space. "That's why you're here."

"Perfect," Rainsford said, unaffected. "I do hope this gives me free reign to deal with Tinker as I please."


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah Jane was just finishing putting the breakfast dishes away when her husband wandered into the kitchen. "Don't tell me, you're still hungry, right?"

"Hungry? Nah," John said, putting his arms around her. "Just … wanted to see the most beautiful woman in the world."

She snuggled into him. "Not sure where she lives, but maybe you can settle for me till you find her."

"Silly." He smiled and kissed her neck. "So I'm thinking that now that I'm officially retired, maybe I should open the fix-it shop back up."

"I think that's a brilliant idea. I was going to suggest you get a hobby of some sort, but this is much better." She smiled as she walked over to a nearby cupboard and pulled out the freshly repainted sign reading 'Tinker's Fix it Shop - Repairs and Refurbishing at Reasonable Rates'. She held it up for him to see. "How's this?"

John smiled broadly. "You know me too well." He looked at the sign. "This is so sweet. And I'm sure Luke will be relieved I'm not messing about in his computer business."

"Sid might spend some time with you on it," she said, setting the sign on the table. "It would do him good to get away from girls and cricket matches for a while."

"I believe it might separate him from girls, but cricket matches? Never," he laughed. "That boy might as well have been born with a cricket bat in his hand."

As if on cue, Sid came downstairs, already dressed in his cricket uniform. "Right then, I'm off to practice, mum. You and dad coming to the match later?"

Sarah smiled and then looked over at John. "You may have a point there, my love." She turned back to Sid. "Yes, of course we'll be there."

She kissed Sid on the cheek as he headed for the door. "Don't make any plans for after the match, Dad and I want to talk to you about a way to earn some extra dosh on the weekends."

Sid stopped before he opened the door. "Extra dosh? I'm always up for that. So long as it doesn't interfere with my games and my love life, count me in."

John shook his head. "Have a good match, son," he laughed.

Sid waved as he headed out the door. Two of his mates, both in uniform, were waiting for him on the sidewalk.

Sarah laughed and shook her head as she watched them walk away. "He's all boy, that one. If he's like this now, John, what will it be like when he goes off on his own to the University?"

"I shudder to think," he said.

"He'll be a man soon enough, and living on his own till the right girl get's him to settle down," she sighed. "I'm afraid we're getting old, my love. We'll be grandparents before we know it."

John looked at her with true shock. "Grandparents? No. Certainly not. Not any time soon, they're just children. We're just children."

"John, Sid is almost sixteen now. In just two years he'll be eighteen and moving into a frat house. From there it's a very short step to a steady job and a family. We need to make the most of having the children here with us while we can."

John flopped down on the sofa. "You're right, I know you're right. It's just so hard to imagine not having us all here together."

Sarah Jane sat down beside him and stroked his chest. "Hmm, maybe you're not pleased about the thought of it just being the two of us one day. After all, we were only alone for a little while before Luke was born. Perhaps being just with me won't be enough for you."

"Mmmmm…." He smiled. "Darling, you're enough for any man." He leaned over, put his arms around her and pulled her against him. "You're all I need."

* * *

Horace Dewhurst began to slam the receiver but at the last moment he stopped, slowly and gently replacing it on its hook and disconnecting the call. He reached into his drawer and pulled out a bottle. Taking off the lid he took a swig, then grimaced at the chalky taste of the antacid. 'This job is going to kill me,' he thought.

For something like 30 years, Lethbridge-Stewart and UNIT had been a thorn in his side. Certainly at no time had it been worse than when the Doctor himself was camped right in their compound, but as irritants went, John Tinker was a close second.

Until a few months ago, it had seemed the UNIT was finally, finally out of his way. Tinker hadn't been seen much, and UNIT seemed to have lost its taste for the alien business. Then that all changed, with Tinker constantly on-scene, and UNIT poking its nose where it absolutely didn't belong.

The correlation couldn't be ignored.

He was certain that if he could simply remove Tinker, UNIT would sink back into the shadows, and perhaps even wither and die. It seemed so simple.

Naturally, the UN had to get involved, just when he and Rainsford had finally firmed up their plans.

The Secretary-General himself had called, obviously at the insistence of Lethbridge-Stewart, to warn him about taking drastic action where Tinker was concerned, lest Torchwood find itself with unwanted global attention.

He'd played it cool, of course, pretended that he had no interest in Tinker, that he had enough going on simply managing his own organization, that he was totally uninterested in the employees of another outfit. Unless he was going to hire them, he'd joked. The Secretary-General had laughed with him, though certainly both knew each other's laughter was fake.

He'd ended the call with the obligatory offer to host a dinner the next time the Secretary-General was in town.

He took a deep breath, then pressed the intercom. "Get me Rainsford."

* * *

It was 3:56am and both Sarah Jane and John were in a deep, contented sleep when the phone rang.

John sat bolt upright, his heart pounding, and tried to reach over Sarah to get to the phone on her nightstand. Meanwhile, Sarah fumbled around in the dark groping for it, and finally found it. "Hello, this better be good," she said, still half asleep.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Mrs. Tinker, this is the duty Sergeant at UNIT, may I speak with Mr. Tinker?"

Sarah sat up quickly and handed the phone to her husband. "It's for you John, it's UNIT."

John took it gratefully. "What's wrong?"

"Mr. Tinker," the Sergeant said, "we need you to fly to Reykjavik right away."

"Reykjavik?" John asked incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so. I've been asked to inform you that a car will be arriving at your home in approximately twenty minutes. Please make sure you have your passport."

"Reykjavik in twenty minutes," he repeated.

"Yes sir, thank you." And with that, the line went dead.

John stared at the receiver for a minute. "Sarah," he said, "remind me, please, I did retire, didn't I?"

"I thought you did, I was with you at the party they gave you. What in heaven's name do they want with you at this time of the night, and what does it have to do with Reykjavik?"

"I suppose I'll find out in twenty minutes," he said, and climbed out of bed. "Have you seen my passport?"

"Just like that, you're leaving in twenty minutes," she asked as she jumped out of bed to get his passport. "How long will you be gone? Is this dangerous?" She started going through a box with important papers in it. "They better make sure that you'll be safe," she said as she pulled his passport of the box and waved it at him. "I intend to get more info from whoever is picking you up."

"All they said was that they're sending a car and that I need to go to Reykjavik." Now that he was starting to wake up, the wheels started turning. "Actually, we'd better call back and confirm that's really UNIT. They didn't exactly follow security protocols, did they?" He held up the phone. "Would you like to do the honors?" He frowned. "Maybe we should call Jack."

"Gladly," she said taking the phone in her hand. She dialed UNIT and a few moments later sighed as she set the phone down. "You need to hurry and get dressed," she said turning to him, resigned to sitting at home by herself and waiting to hear from him eventually. "Make sure you call me as soon and as much as you can."

John sighed. "Reykjavik," he mumbled.


	4. Chapter 4

After all of the security the Tinker family had mustered over the years, and especially after his commendation, John and Sarah been especially careful about confirming, and reconfirming - and re-reconfirming - that the call had actually come from UNIT, and it wasn't a Torchwood ruse meant to lure John into a trap. But the call was, indeed, legitimate.

UNIT knew that John liked to speak the language when he was in-country, so they'd sent along some tapes for him to listen to on the plane, but it was clear pretty quickly that he wasn't going to get anywhere near acceptable pronunciation in a short flight, so he was glad that all UNIT brigades spoke English because of their multi-cultural makeup. He thought he'd catch up on the sleep he hadn't gotten at home, but it was a cramped military aircraft. Creature comforts weren't what the designers had had in mind, so he arrived in Iceland tired and cold, and already missing his retirement.

The cold didn't let up in Reykjavik, and everyone seemed to be nervous as he climbed down off the military helicopter that had brought him from the airfield closer to the site. Nobody, not even the UNIT personnel in London, could tell him what it was about, except that his presence had been specifically requested by the top UNIT brass in Geneva.

He was met by Colonel Einarsson, a tall, blond man with an uncharacteristically stern look about him. He reached his hand out to John. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Mister Tinker," he said, his perfect English showing little sign of an accent. "Here's the situation we are dealing with. There's a downed craft here, presumably alien, and we want your expertise in analyzing it." He motioned for John to follow him, still talking while he walked. "Now then, we haven't the time for pleasantries, but would you like me to order some coffee so you can at least warm up while you're having a look at it?"

Years ago, John might have been taken aback by the abruptness of the situation - let alone the fact that a Colonel had personally met him on arrival; today he was used to it, in a field in which things often moved fast. "Tea would be lovely if you can manage it, thank you. If not, I'm sure the coffee is delicious." He climbed into the car, grateful that it was at least enclosed, and not the open air-type Jeep favored by UNIT in Britain. "So tell me," he said when Einarsson had finished calling ahead for tea, "why do you think it's alien?"

"Naturally, we're keeping all of this quiet, but it's simple. One look at it and you'll recognize that's it not like anything from this planet. Intelligence is of the opinion that no nation on earth has anything this advanced." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Of course, once you have made your evaluation, we'd like you to tell us if you can duplicate anything on the ship our people could find of use."

John smiled at the timidity with which Einarsson mentioned that last bit. "Of course," he said, as though it were the first time he'd been asked. How many items had he squirreled away in UNIT's Black Archive under the Tower of London, just to keep them out of general usage? He'd lost count years ago. The Brigadier had supported him wholeheartedly in that; Colonel Crichton less so. Bambera… well, frankly he wasn't sure she even knew the archive existed.

John resisted the temptation to ask a lot of questions on the way; secretly - or perhaps not so secretly - he enjoyed the thrill of seeing something completely new and foreign, and he didn't want to spoil it by getting someone else's perceptions of what was there. Finally, he watched as the road went from a major highway to a regional road, to a country road, to a dirt road, to a track that had been hurriedly hacked (with a minimum of damage) through what looked to be a relatively young forest. "Good job we don't have to hike in," he said. "Anticipating having to haul things out?"

"Every last bit of the ship and any sign of it's ever having been here will vanish as soon as you're done examining and evaluating it. Time is of immediate concern, so I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to be thorough, but quick."

"Well," John said, "a good job takes time, of course, but I'll do my best. You seem to have security pretty well in hand," he said as they passed a checkpoint, "what's the hurry?"

"We'd like to make sure that Torchwood doesn't get even a hint about the ship or it's contents. So you see, discretion and speed are of utmost concern right now."

John shivered a little, and not from the cold. "Torchwood? In Iceland?"

"Unfortunately, sir, they are everywhere these days. They must be taken quite seriously and dealt with swiftly and cleanly. Blast them and the politics that go with them," Einarsson said, disgusted.

"Right," John sighed. The car came to a stop beside an enormous plywood wall. "Let me guess, in case onlookers manage to get through."

"It seems you've done this before. We can't take any chances, now can we, Mr. Tinker? I'm going to see to it that you get your tea and then I have to leave. If there's anything you need, ask one of the men that are working on keeping the perimeter safe. They have been told to give you any aid you might need."

One of the many uniformed men in the area walked up and saluted as he opened the door of the jeep.

"This is Mister Tinker," said Einarsson. "Order him some tea and give him anything that he needs. Notify me the minute he's done with his investigation. I'm heading back to my office. See to it that I'm not disturbed until things are settled here." With that the door was slammed and the car headed off.

A Sergeant handed him the cup of tea Einarsson had ordered back at the airfield. "Don't mind him, sir, he's a bit distracted today. Pressure from Geneva, I shouldn't imagine." He introduced himself as Sergeant Jonsson and motioned toward a doorway in the wall. "This way, sir. Do you need any tools or equipment?"

John sipped his tea. It was weaker than he liked it, but he savored the moment when the heat spread through his chest, warming his core. He patted his satchel. "I'll let you know. I can generally get by with the contents of my thievery kit here," he smiled.

The Sergeant smiled. "We'll leave you to your work then sir." He handed John a radio. "Give us a shout if you need us and one of us will be here with bells on." He stepped inside with John. "Here's your assignment sir, good luck with it."

It took a moment for John's eyes to adjust to the bright light that came from Klieg lights mounted at various points of what appeared to be an enormous plywood box erected around the ship. "At least it's warm in here," he muttered as the door closed behind him.

The ship itself wasn't small - he estimated it to be about 35 meters across - and it lay partially buried in the ground at the end of a crater that he assumed extended for some distance. The top looked almost like a patchwork of equipment and reminded him of a clockwork sitting on top of a flying disk.

He walked around the craft, examining the pieces he could see without climbing on top of it. "Hm," he said out loud. "That's not the top at all, that's some sort of thruster module." A little more investigation confirmed his theory; crushed mechanisms showed that the craft had rolled over at least once in the crash; a pile of debris looked almost like the stand under a model where the craft was pitched in the hard Icelandic soil.

He pulled out a notebook and pencil and started sketching, making notes of some pieces that looked obvious. A thruster here, a stabilizer there, a possible weapons system right in the center, augmented by components around the rim.

It was the weapons system that put things into perspective. If he was interpreting things correctly, the power it could wield was massive, and highly targetable; if an individual nation got their hands on it, it could be a devastating blow to global stability.

Finally he put the notebook back in his bag and poked his head out the door. "Sergeant, just checking, have you cleared the inside? Nothing dangerous, atmosphere breathable, etc.? No deadly bacteria, or aliens waiting to eat my brains?"

Jonsson laughed. "Nothing like that left inside, sir. We've checked it out, and the bodies have been removed to UNIT HQ in Reykjavik. Feel free to just go right in."

John started toward the open hatch. A shiver started up his spine and he went back to the door. "You know, Sergeant, I think I'll check the top of this thing first, have you got a ladder?

After a few minutes they produced a ladder, setting it against the lowest side of the superstructure. John climbed up onto the craft and began to work methodically, sketching each piece he couldn't see clearly from the ground, and theorizing what it might be for.

* * *

**Author's Note: **We hope that you're enjoying the story. We'd like to post at the time that's best for the greatest amount of people, so if you'd like, please let us know when you like to read the new chapters. (if you could either give us the time in New York time, or let us know what time zone you're in, that'd be really helpful too.) Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5

"Don't forget your toothbrush," Doris called sleepily.

"You're supposed to be asleep," the Brigadier said, leaving his overnight case on the bed and coming around to kiss her softly on the cheek. "I didn't want to wake you until it was time to go. I need to head to Geneva straight away, and I thought you might want to stay on and visit for a few days before we head back to Peru when I get back."

The phone rang and Doris motioned to it. "No rest for the wicked," she mumbled.

Alistair picked up the phone. "Lethbridge Stewart," he said curtly.

"Alistair? It's Sarah Jane Tinker, please tell me I didn't wake you up."

He looked at his watch. "No, but only because I need to be on the 8:45 to Geneva. Is something wrong?"

"Uhm, not exactly, it's just that I have a sort of favor I'd like to ask of you," she cajoled.

"Well, some things never change," he said, opening his shaving kit to make sure he had his toothbrush. "What can I do for you?"

Her voice sank. "Totally the other direction," she said. "I don't suppose there's a chance that you'll be going to Reykjavik before you head back on your way to Geneva, is there?" she asked quickly. He could almost hear her biting her lip hopefully.

"Reykjavik? As in Iceland? Why in heaven's name would I go to Reykjavik?"

Doris sat up, interested.

"Well, you know," she said sheepishly. "I just thought that you might need to check in on things over there, or something like that."

"Mrs. Tinker," the Brig said tiredly, zipping his overnight bag, "perhaps you might speak plainly about what is going on?"

"You're miffed at me. I know, because it's the only time you ever call me Mrs. Tinker," she sighed. "Never mind, I'm sorry I troubled you, Brigadier. Forget about it and have a nice trip," she said, not bothering to try and hide her disappointment.

The Brig stared at the phone for a moment. He knew her too well to believe that she'd actually given up. "What is it that's going on in Reykjavik? Let me guess, you're doing some sort of book signing, and you can't get a commercial flight."

She paused. "No, don't you know that John's there? I thought surely you must have heard about UNIT asking him to fly out there," she said.

The Brig slapped his passport on the desk. "No, I didn't. Thank you, Mrs. Tinker, for letting me know. Perhaps it is time I took a little detour to the Iceland office."

"Good," she smiled. "Because, well, if you are going, I'd love to go there with you and surprise John. I haven't heard from him since he got there."

He shook his head. "All right, Sarah Jane, grab your passport and meet me at the UNIT airfield. I'll see what I can do."

* * *

When John got to the top of the craft, he looked at his watch and realized that more than three hours had gone by. He looked around again at the giant box and realized that his watch was still on London time; he had no idea what time it was in Reykjavik, and inside the box it was like he was in his own little world, with only the Klieg lights for the sun.

He started climbing down, watching for any components he might have missed. He knew that UNIT would have photographed everything before he'd even arrived, but making sketches helped him think; thinking about how to draw a piece made him think about how things fit together, which often helped his analysis.

Finally, nearly exhausted, he got back to the bottom and climbed down the ladder.

He looked around. No sense putting it off, he was going to have to go inside to finish his analysis.

He keyed the radio. "I'm heading inside now," he said.

"All right sir," the radio crackled. "Let us know if you need anything."

The "hatch" was actually a hole that had been cut into the skin of the ship, and as John climbed through it he decided that he'd definitely been right; the ship was upside down.

He reached inside his satchel and pulled out a torch on a headband. Flipping the switch he was pleased to see it fill the corridor with light, and he put it on his head to leave his hands free.

Still, the darkness surrounding him - along with the Klieg lights outside - made the ship feel hot and close despite the Reykjavik chill, and he hoped for a moment that the inside would be simpler than the outside. Interesting or not, he was tired and he wanted to be finished with this job.

There didn't seem to be too much differentiation on the walls around him, but a close look at what was for him the floor revealed what looked like internal conduits, and he followed them along the corridor.

He keyed the radio as he moved upwards through the spiral hallways, deeper into the bowels of the ship. "Sergeant, it'd be easier to figure out how things work if I know what form they were designed for. Do you happen to know what the aliens looked like? I should have asked before, but the Colonel ran off so fast I wasn't thinking about it."

He reached a "T" and looked down each side. There seemed to be a larger room off to the left. "Sergeant, can you hear me?"

The radio was silent. He pulled a meter out of his bag and touched the contacts against the metal wall. It shouldn't be interfering with the radio signal, but it was certainly possible that something else in the structure could be blocking it.

He stood at the crossroads for a moment, looking forward. He really didn't like the idea of heading any further in without contact with the rest of the team. 'Then again,' he thought, looking at the last curve he'd climbed, 'if I climb back down, I don't know that I'll have the energy to get back up here.' Besides, the sooner he finished, the sooner he could go home.

He turned left, towards what looked like it might be the control room.

* * *

Of the thirty UNIT soldiers who had been guarding the crash site when John arrived, fifteen had been assigned to guard the actual site itself, rather than the perimeter.

Of those, eight were dead.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Please forgive the delay; technical issues prevented us from posting at the regular time.

* * *

The seven UNIT soldiers that remained alive sat on the ground, each with two Torchwood rifles pointed at their heads, hands bound behind them in pairs.

Only Sergeant Jonsson stood, hands on his head, subject to the invading leader's personal attention.

"Now," Colonel Parkins said, not taking his eyes off Jonsson, "anything you gentlemen want to tell us?"

The Sergeant glared at each of the men on his team. They knew what he was telling them: don't mention Mr. Tinker in the ship. His last radio transmission had happened just before Torchwood had arrived, and everyone had known not to let on. "Not at all," he told Parkins. "Except that the United Nations isn't going to sit still for this."

"By the time they find out what's happened here, there won't be enough evidence for them to trace anything back to us. I can promise each of you that if you cooperate, things will be a lot more pleasant for you. I advise you to think about that before it's too late. Now what do you want to tell me about what's inside that box?"

"There's nothing inside that box that Torchwood would be interested in," the Sergeant said loudly, hoping that Mister Tinker would hear him and call UNIT for reinforcements before Torchwood figured out that he was inside. Hell, he thought, of everything on the site, Mister Tinker was probably the most important asset they were guarding; if he simply hid and didn't get caught, the Sergeant would be happy.

Of course, where he would hide inside a giant plywood box was a mystery.

Suddenly his radio crackled to life in Parkins' hands. "Sergeant," he heard John say, "it'd be easier to figure out how things work if I know what form they were designed for. Do you happen to know what the aliens looked like? I should have asked before, but the Colonel ran off so fast I wasn't thinking about it."

Parkins smiled as Jonsson cringed. "Well, looks like we've got ourselves a little bonus. I believe that's John Tinker, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," the Sergeant answered. He wasn't going down without a fight.

The radio crackled once more. "Sergeant, can you hear me?"

Parkins' smile seemed to grow. "Oh, we can all hear you Mister Tinker."

A second truck pulled up and soldiers began offloading crates. Parkins nodded to them. "Do it."

* * *

John picked his way carefully down the hallway towards what he thought was probably the control room of the ship. His torch threw hard shadows that flickered as he moved, and more than once he had to remind himself that the ship's occupants were gone, removed before he'd arrived. He could even see dirt from UNIT boots on the ceiling-cum-floor as he walked, and it made him feel better.

Despite the tilt of the ship he was sure that the hallway was descending, and as he picked his way carefully down he realized that it was consistent with the hallways widening out as he got closer to the control room. "Good," he said out loud, just to break the silence, "At least it won't be so claustrophobic in here."

A scrape sounded behind him, and he turned towards it and froze, his headlamp illuminating the corridor with bouncing shadows. Nothing.

"You're getting jumpy," he said. "There's nothing here, just get this done."

He crossed the threshold into what was, in fact, the control center for the ship, and for a moment all of his nervousness disappeared, supplanted by fascination. Some of the control stations were, of course, on the ship's floor above his head, but not all, and as his eyes took in the multi-layered pattern, different stations at different heights, in different positions around the circular room he felt as though he were standing inside an exquisite sculpture few could appreciate.

He made his way to each station, making sketches and turning them upside down if necessary to see them the way their original occupants might have, noting to himself that with stations on both the floor and ceiling, this was a creature that likely spent much of its time in zero gravity, and didn't bother to generate the artificial variety while they were in flight. He smiled at how the arrangement basically doubled the amount of floor space, walking through the maze of risers and stations, noting that much of it appeared to be mechanized; there weren't many actual controls. Unless the aliens controlled their systems telepathically, much was probably done by whatever passed for a computer for them.

Another sound, this time in the control room.

He spun his headlamp towards it. He saw nothing in the shadows, but he was sure he'd heard something. Slowly, he reached for the microphone of his radio, the spell of the control room's beauty broken by the sound. "Sergeant," he said, "Are you sure this ship's been cleared? I think I hear something."

He decided to go back, finished or not. They'd just have to give him a chance to climb back up with an armed escort. He wasn't going to stay here by himself no matter how much of a hurry UNIT was in, there just was no way, and …

He spun around. He wasn't sure where the door was, and for a moment he had to orient himself, picking his way through the consoles trying to get a better view. He worked his way towards the periphery, figuring he could just walk around the outside of the circle until he found the door.

Then he realized there were at least two doors, one on each side of the room. He could easily find himself on the side of the ship with no exit hatch, trapped with whatever was still in here. "Sergeant," he said into the mic, "I need some assistance up here, and I need it now. I'm a little disoriented and I'm not sure which is the way out and there's definitely something in here."

He realized that his voice was starting to take on a tinge of panic.

Footsteps, he reminded himself. I saw UNIT footsteps. No, they'll be everywhere if UNIT cleared the entire ship, he realized. That won't help.

He looked at his sketchbook, and decided to follow his sketches backwards. That would lead him back to the door. Of course it would. He followed them and after a few minutes he found the door - just as he was sure he heard a growl.

He clambered up the hallway, his heart pounding. "Sergeant, I'm coming out," he said. "Oh, please, I hope you can hear me." He got to the top at a run, but as he got to the head of the "T" where he'd decided to go forward, he was going too fast and skidded, unable to stop and tumbling down the other side past the corridor that led to the outside, sliding and tumbling and rolling. On one roll the front of his head would have smashed into the floor, but the torch took the impact, and the corridor was suddenly pitch black as he slid to a stop and began to lose consciousness, entirely unsure of where he was, or how to get out.


	7. Chapter 7

Iceland's UNIT hierarchy was completely independant of Great Britain's, but there wasn't a member of UNIT who didn't know who Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart was. Soldiers snapped to attention as he and Sarah Jane arrived, until they got to the main office, where chaos seemed to reign.

"What's going on here," he boomed.

The entire room stopped for a moment to look at him, then saluted and went back to what they were doing. A Sergeant in the back of the room hurried to Colonel Einarsson's door and entered without knocking.

A moment later the Colonel strode towards them. "What the devil do you mean barging in here this way," he said. Suddenly he realized just who he'd shouted at. "I'm so sorry, sir. They didn't tell me it was you." He glared at the subordinate.

"Indeed," the Brig said. "Now would you care to enlighten me as to what's going on here? Should I be concerned?"

"Of course not, sir. It's just that we've lost..." He stopped when he noticed Sarah Jane. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't brief you with a civilian present. You'll have to step into my office. The woman will have to wait out here."

The Brig looked at Sarah, and it was clear that he wasn't asking. "Stay here," he said, and strode towards the office, with Einarsson following behind him.

* * *

Meanwhile, Einarsson brought the Brig up to speed on the ship's landing and the current problems UNIT was experiencing.

"You see, we've lost all touch with the team. We haven't been in contact with them for almost 2 hours. No one has checked in and we haven't been able to get anyone there to respond to our radio calls. We'd cleared the ship and determined there was no further danger, so we assumed it was just a radio problem. We sent a small team to check it out, but they were shot at before getting to the site. Thankfully nobody was hurt. We were just about to send a larger team down when you arrived, sir."

"And no word from Mister Tinker, then," the Brig said.

"None, not one word from anyone that was situated there, I'm sorry to say," he said, then paused before asking the question that had been on his mind since the Brig arrived. "May I ask, sir, about the woman you brought with you? Who is she?"

"I'm afraid that's Mrs. Tinker. Don't worry, she's also a former UNIT employee," he fibbed, "and she's been cleared through security. I expect you to afford her every courtesy while I attend to the team heading to the landing site."

"We'll do our very best," he said. He seemed confused, though. "But won't you be staying here with her?"

"Colonel Einarsson, in the last thirty-odd years I have prided myself on a handful of things. Founding UNIT is one of them. Another is finding someone who can enable us to save this planet with brains, rather than brawn, the way the Doctor did when he still saw fit to grace us with his presence. If you think for one moment I'm going to sit in this office and let something happen to John Tinker, then I'm afraid you're not up to this job."

* * *

"Would you like to sit down, miss," asked a soldier as he brought Sarah Jane a chair.

"Yes, I'd love to, thanks," she said, taking the offered seat.

"Can I get you a cuppa? It's not much, but it's warm," he smiled at her.

"That would be very kind of you. Two sugars and half white please."

Sarah sat down and waited, wondering what was going on. "Excuse me," she asked when he returned with her tea, "but can you tell me where I can find John Tinker? I know he got here earlier today."

He seemed to go white for a moment, and hesitated. "I'm sorry, miss, but I don't have that information."

"You don't know where he is? But you were here when he got here, right?"

"I'm sorry, miss," he said again. "I have orders." He practically ran off, and in a moment he was gone.

Sarah's brow furrowed as she tried to decide whether to sneak off to check the cordoned off labs they'd passed on the way in - after all, John was most likely to be in one of them - or to get the Brig to cut through the red tape for her. After all, didn't he come down here to find out what was going on with John? Certainly whatever chaos had overtaken the Iceland office, he was involved in some way. She looked over to the office into which the Brigadier had disappeared.

* * *

The Brig looked through the glass door in Einarsson's office. "Tell me," he said, "you don't happen to have another exit that won't take us past Mrs. Tinker, do you?"

"This door," he said, motioning to a side entrance to his office, "leads to a side exit if you want take it, but what shall we do with your friend if she asks where you are?"

"Have your adjutant tell her I had to take a conference call, but if you know what's good for you, you'll tell him not to tell her we've gone off after her husband." He opened the door and headed off down the hallway with Einarsson, hoping that she hadn't seen them leave.

"Going somewhere, Brigadier," asked Sarah Jane as she watched him put his hand on the door that led outside. "Without even so much as a 'by your leave'? I thought you had better manners than that," she titched at him.

"Mrs. Tinker," he said carefully, "I'm afraid that I have some urgent UNIT business to attend to, and I'll ask you to stay behind here and wait for me to return."

"So we're back to Mrs. Tinker again, are we," she smiled at him. "You're slipping, Alistair, you should have realized that you have a very distinct profile, even walking past an opaque glass door. "In the old days, you would have heard me sneaking up on you, too. Now then, where are we going?"

"**We** are not going anywhere. **You**," he said, "are going back into that office to wait for me. **I**," he emphasised, "am going to handle a situation."

"What situation? Look, if something's gone wrong I'm going with you, and I'm not taking no for an answer," she said firmly. "Since my husband is involved, you can just bet that I'm going to get to the bottom of whatever's going on with or without your permission, so you might as well take me with you."

The Brig knew there was no point trying to skirt the issue. She'd (correctly) gotten it into her head that something was amiss, and she wasn't going to let it go. He held up a finger. "You can come along, but you will **not** get in the way, Mrs. Tinker."

"Brigadier -" Einarsson started.

"Colonel Einarsson, there is no point arguing. Mrs. Tinker can be trusted, and she'll be accompanying us on this mission. I expect you to radio ahead and make sure that there's body armor available for both of us at the transport."

Einarsson seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then gave up and began relaying instructions into his HT.

"Thank you for that, Brigadier," Sarah said. "I'm glad you aren't going to bother with ordering me about or arguing when there isn't a moment to waste. Let's push on, shall we? No need to worry about me, I can more than keep up while you tell me what you do know about what's going on."

"We don't know anything," the Brigadier said as he followed her down the hallway shaking his head at how some things never changed. "That's the problem. We've lost communication with the site, so we're off to find out what's going on down there."

Sarah nodded. "So it could be something as simple as sun spots or something blocking the communication system, right? That's not very likely though is it? What exactly is going on at that site?"

"Mrs. Tinker, I'll remind you that anything you see or hear on this trip is protected by the Official Secrets Act. I don't have to tell you what the penalty for revealing those secrets would be."

She crossed her heart and raised her hand. "Reporter's word, strictly off the record. However, that doesn't mean I won't ask you to let me have first crack at the story when everything is all settled and cleared."

Before Einarsson could utter a syllable at this revelation, the Brig put a hand on her arm and stopped her, looking intensely at her. "There will be no story, Mrs. Tinker. Period. I'm allowing you to come along because your husband is on the scene and for no other reason. Is that clear?" It was obvious he was serious.

Sarah was surprised by the Brig's stern reaction. "Of course, anything you say Brigadier, and I'd just like to say thank you for letting me come along."

* * *

John could have been out for seconds or days for all he knew when he woke up, but the danger he was in came back to him immediately, even as the foggy feeling began to slowly clear. He lay still for a moment, barely breathing, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. Maybe the creature, whatever it was, was sight dependant, and didn't operate well in low light levels. He tried to remember what he'd seen in terms of lighting. There wasn't much on the ship, as far as he could tell, but there was some, so the creatures probably depended on at least SOME light to make their way around.

He thought of the klieg lights outside the ship, illuminating the ship like a tiny sun. What he wouldn't give to be out in that light right now.

He listened closely for some sign that the creature was near, hoping he wouldn't find any.

When he didn't hear anything he decided that his best bet was to try to make his way out of the ship, and pray that he didn't run into whatever it was all over again.

Slowly, silently, he climbed to his feet in the darkness, but he was disoriented, and as he tried to decide which way go to, he was overcome by a rush of vertigo, threatening to send him crashing to the floor. Carefully he sat down to analyze what he should do. He couldn't call for help; it didn't seem to be doing any good anyway, and it might attract the creature.

Crawling, he decided, was the best option; he wouldn't fall down that way. Of course if he DID run into the creature he couldn't run away from it, but where was he going to run in the dark anyway?

Realizing he'd rolled down a hill, he found where the floor surface sloped upwards and started silently crawling, the darkness shrouding him like a cocoon.

By the time the floor leveled out his arms were aching and his knees felt as though he'd been kneeling on rocks, and he suddenly realized that the floor shouldn't have leveled out - unless he'd gone the wrong way.

He had no idea where he was in the ship, or how to get out.


	8. Chapter 8

John's heart was racing now, and he told himself to relax, forcing himself to take deep, quiet breaths. The creature didn't seem to be nearby. Maybe he could just sit here, wherever "here" was, until UNIT came looking for him. Sooner or later, after all, they were going to wonder what was taking him so long. He'd be thrilled to have someone yell at him right now, as long as they did it while holding a torch!

He shivered for a moment and realized that the ship was getting cold. Odd, he thought. The console room, even outside of the actual path of the lights and thus still dark, was still warmed by them, as though they had turned the ship into a giant low temperature oven. But now, here, it seemed much colder and he tried to use that information to figure out where he was.

The console room was in the absolute center of the ship; it was furthest away from the lights, so if it was warm, everything else should be too, unless there was another system running. (That's right, he reminded himself, distract yourself with science.) This room wasn't nearly as warm - in fact it was a bit chilly, and seemed to be getting colder - but he supposed it could have some extra shielding. Perhaps it was intended to be a climate isolation area.

He knew that the ship was powered down; there was no chance of turning on any of the internal lights. The he realized the obvious and shook his head. 'You're losing your touch, John,' he told himself, and pulled a box of matches out of his bag.

It was a gamble; if the creature was anywhere in the area, it might see the light. On the other hand, if it wasn't, John would know, and could relax. More importantly, he could at least, perhaps, find his way back to the hatch - or the corridor that led to it, where the light from the Klieg lights filtered in.

Getting ready to douse it immediately, he struck the match and looked around.

He was back in the control room.

Impossible, he told himself, memorizing the layout. There must be more than one control room. Because the only way this could be the main control room was if -

* * *

"Sir, the Klieg lights are off," Rafnarson said. "They cut the cables."

Sergeant Jonsson finished disentangling himself and motioned for Arnason to cut Elisson free next. "Then grab a torch, but get him out of there before that thing finds him," he said. "Elisson, can you disarm it?"

Elisson sprinted to the enclosure's door, still shedding newly cut ropes. He slid to a stop and looked at the suitcase-sized control box in front of the door, then at the netting that had been draped over the entire structure and attached to the control box. "Not without setting it off. It'll take time to disarm it." He finished inspecting it. "But there doesn't seem to be a timer. The good news is that as long as we don't disturb the mesh, we can can our time."

"Except that that thing, whatever it is, could very well rip Mister Tinker to shreds while we're fooling with it, and we can't get him out without blowing all of us to kingdom come." Jonsson gritted his teeth. "Just … start working on it. Rafnarson, see if you can find a way to see what's going on in there."

Jonsson rummaged through the UNIT vehicles that had been left on-site looking for a radio to contact Mr. Tinker. 'I don't get it,' he thought. 'They killed half the team, then left the other half alive but just restrained enough to slow us down. Now they've left a bomb behind, so we can save him, but not just yet.' He silently shook his head. 'Why didn't they just kill all of us, including Mr. Tinker?'

* * *

The driver slowed as they approached a curve in the dirt track.

"What is it, private?" the Brigadier asked, searching the landscape with a soldier's eye.

"This is where the last team we sent in was shot at by snipers, sir," the driver answered. "Shall we prepare to engage?"

"Yes, yes, prepare to engage," he said. But his instincts screamed at him that something wasn't right. This was a trap, of that he was certain, but not the one they were expecting. He turned to Sarah. "Mrs. Tinker, I'll ask you to make sure your body armor is secure, and keep your head down."

Then he barked at the driver. "Driver, maximum speed forward unless someone actually shoots at us."

* * *

John realized he'd gone in a circle and after noting where the door was, quickly doused the match. At least he could find his way out from here.

He crawled to the door, then slowly, carefully made his way up the hill so that he wouldn't overshoot once more. Every foot or so he put his hand on the wall to make sure he wasn't missing the "T" corridor.

Another scrape.

John crawled more quickly, his pulse pounding, trying not to panic. Finally, miraculously, he felt the opening and almost threw himself into it, sliding around the corners as though the corridor were a man-sized laundry chute.

The floor leveled off and he slid to a stop just as he heard a snarl behind him and he climbed to his feet, holding the wall to orient himself and running full tilt in the dark until his foot caught on the edge of the hatch and in the seemingly infinite time before he hit the ground 5 feet below he realized that it was dark outside the ship.

He hit the ground hard and literally got the wind knocked out of him. For a moment he gaped like a fish, trying to draw breath, his lungs refusing to expand.

He could feel the fire spreading in his chest as his heart screamed for oxygen, and he willed himself to stop trying to breathe, to let his diaphragm relax so he could breathe again. It worked, and he gulped in air in deep breaths. But the pain in his chest didn't stop.

He told himself to ignore it, just get out. He began to drag himself to the point where he thought the door should be, sudden nausea swelling up in his stomach. He fought it for a moment, telling himself to focus on getting out, but a moment later there was nothing he could do, and the tea he'd enjoyed so much was on its way up, once again choking off his air supply.

When it was over he lay on the ground for a moment, his chest beginning to tighten. 'Oh G-d, not now,' he thought.

He dragged himself up to his knees and crawled towards the wall, realizing he had no way of knowing where the door was. If he banged on the wall, or called for help, the creature would find him. Then he thought, 'If it didn't hear me retching up the tea, there's no point in worrying about that!'

He pounded on the wall, working his way towards where he thought the door should be. "Help!" he tried to shout, but it came out a rasp. "Open the door, there's something in here!"

But no one could hear him, he realized.

Fighting back the pain he pulled out another match, this time prepared to locate the door. He lit it quickly, found the door, and looked around for the creature. Just then he heard a roar from inside the ship, followed by heavy, quick footsteps. He doused the match and made for the door, pulling on the handle.

It didn't budge. "Let me out!"

He tugged at the door, shaking it hard. "I said let me out!"

He heard a snarl, closer this time, and realized that the creature would be looking for him in this spot. Maybe if he tried to hide… mustering all of his strength he made for where he thought the debris under the ship should be. If this thing were as big as he was afraid it was, he should be able to climb into an opening small enough to keep it out until UNIT came for him.

Within a moment it was clear he wasn't going to be able to find the debris in the pitch black and he realized he had only one chance. Pain searing through his shoulder and neck, he struck one more match.

In the moment before he doused it he took in two things: the location of a hole big enough for him to crawl into but small enough to keep the creature out, and the creature itself. It was between him and his potential hiding place, but off to the side, and he hoped that it was stupid enough to try and find him where he had been, and not where he was going.

In any case he had no alternative, and as he successfully crawled into the hole he told himself that he hadn't been bitten. The pain in his neck wasn't the alien, no matter how its massive jaw and fang-like teeth dominated the image in his brain.

He flattened himself against the back wall of his hidey hole and pulled a crowbar out of his bag, adrenaline helping him to bend some of the wrecked ship over the hole, sealing himself in - and the creature out.

He sat for a moment, telling himself to relax, that the creature couldn't get him now. But as he retched up more tea and the pain in his neck radiated to his jaw and his arm, he knew that his troubles were far from over.

John Tinker was having a heart attack.


	9. Chapter 9

At the crash scene, things weren't quite as confused as the office, but the tension was just as high. Several soldiers were on the ground intent on a box next to the door, and one stood on the hood of a truck trying to chop a hole in the plywood camouflage container without disturbing what looked to be a mesh of wires covering the entire structure.

"What in blazes is going on here?" the Brig thundered.

Sergeant Jonsson spun to look at him. "Sir!" he saluted smartly. "I'm sorry to be abrupt, sir, but do you have a radio?"

The Brig reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his radio. "Of course I do. What the deuce is going on here?"

Jonsson pointed to Rafnarson up on the truck. He looked to be almost through the wooden wall. "Torchwood, sir. They introduced some sort of creature and then they boobytrapped the enclosure and took our microphones so we couldn't contact Mister Tinker. We're trying to get a visual but we don't want to chop through the wall so low we might injure him." He adjusted the frequency on the radio. "At one point we could hear both of them and he was trying to get the door open, but we had to bar it shut so the whole thing wouldn't explode. Now we don't know whether he's not responding because he can't, or because he thinks we're not -"

Once again the radio crackled to life. Everyone turned to stare at it, holding their breath.

"Sergeant?" a small voice pleaded. "Please, please answer me." They could hear him gasping.

"John," Sarah Jane cried out. She turned to the Brigadier. "We have to go help him right now. Where is he," she demanded grabbing Jonsson's coat sleeve.

"Let's find out," Jonsson said, and keyed the radio. "Mister Tinker, where are you?"

* * *

John jumped; he hadn't expected an answer. "I'm … I'm in trouble," he said, fighting the pain to remain conscious. "Help me… Please …"

* * *

The explosives crew redoubled their efforts to defuse the bomb and Sarah Jane seized the radio out of Jonsson's hand before he could stop her. "John darling, help is on the way. Try to stay calm my love. The Brig is here with me and we're going to rescue you. Are you injured or in any pain whatsoever?"

* * *

"Sarah? But you're not here..." He must be in worse shape than he thought. Completely delusional. "I think I'm dying," he said. "I'm so sorry." He wondered what it would feel like. It couldn't be worse than the pain he felt now.

* * *

"No John, I am here, I swear it. I came here with Allistair, we're both here and we're on our way to you right now." She turned to the Brig with tears in her eyes. "Please, you can't die, I won't let you. Promise that you'll hang on for me. Did you take your nitro tablets?"

* * *

John listened to her. Nitro … of course! "No…" He pulled on the chain around his neck and found the small metal capsule he always carried. He reached to twist it but his left arm wouldn't work. "I can't… I can't get to them… Can't breathe …"

* * *

A sudden "THWACK" sounded from the box. "Sir, we're through." The soldier shone a torch through the small opening and they heard a roar, followed by something attacking the wooden box directly beneath them. The soldier jumped back and pulled his sidearm, aiming it through the hole.

"Wait!" the Brig said. "We still don't know where Mr. Tinker is." He took the radio from Sarah Jane. "Mister Tinker, I want you to listen carefully to me. We're working to get you out of there, but you have to tell us where you are so we can dispatch this creature. Relative to the door, where are you?"

* * *

John could see the shaft of light like the hand of G-d in the darkness. "I'm under the ship," he said. "In the debris… 10 meters from the light…" He laughed mirthlessly. "Just 10 meters … The door … I couldn't open the door …"

* * *

The Brig paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. "John," he said softly, "I want you to listen to me. Just to me, nothing else. There's a problem out here and we're going to solve it. That's why the door wouldn't open. You're going to hear a gunshot now, and it's all right." He motioned for the soldier to shoot.

There was a gunshot, then a roar.

* * *

John heard the gunshot and the roar, then felt shaking, as the creature began to pull on his protective cage. He could hear himself screaming, but whether it was out of pain or terror he wasn't sure.

* * *

The Brig turned down the volume of the radio so that it was just high enough for them to hear what was going on, but low enough for him to bark orders at the crew. "What the devil is taking so long to defuse that thing?" he said.

"As far as we can tell, sir, it requires some sort of code; we're not confident that if we just start cutting wires it won't blow the whole structure. We considered just putting on blast suits and taking our chances, but with this level of explosives there's a very good chance of incinerating anything inside."

* * *

"It can't get in, it can't get in, it can't get in, it can't get in," John kept repeating to himself, as though it were a protective mantra.

* * *

A frantic Sarah Jane turned to the Brigadier and Johnsson. "No one is incinerating my husband," she glared at the soldiers.

The Brig stepped off to the side and pulled out a phone, then dialed. "No time for pleasantries. Torchwood's placed a bomb with a deactivation code and we need it immediately or Mister Tinker is a dead man." He paused. "We'll be waiting." He snapped the phone shut and looked over at Sarah Jane. "Perhaps there's one last mercy our ruse can provide us."


	10. Chapter 10

Jack Harkness sprinted down the corridors of the Hub, practically shoving Alex out of his chair to get at the computer console. "Sorry, it's an emergency." Frantically he searched, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

"Need any help." Alex asked.

He motioned towards the auxiliary terminals, but didn't look up. "I need the deactivation code for a bomb set probably in the last 6 hours, and I need it yesterday."

"I don't suppose that being the head of this operation you work for means that you'll tell me what's going on," he sighed as he pulled a file out of his desk marked "Codes" and dropped it in front of Jack.

Jack let out the breath he was holding. "As a friend of mine used to say, 'I'll tell you later,'" he said, scanning the list, then performing the calculations that would give him the current code.

* * *

The Brigadier's phone barely had a chance to ring before he answered it. He scribbled a set of numbers on a piece of paper and handed it to the bomb techs just as a scream echoed over the radio.

* * *

The creature's arm came through the debris so quickly it was as though it had simply appeared there, and John screamed, realizing that even his temporary safety wasn't safe. The arm flailed around in his little capsule, finally finding his shirt and pulling him towards the opening it had made. He tried to pull away, and no other options coming to mind, he sank his teeth into the hand until it let go.

A moment later there was another gunshot, and the hand disappeared.

He thought he heard a commotion as the world faded to black.

* * *

The moment the charges were disarmed, the team swarmed through the door, weapons drawn, torches sweeping the area for signs of John.

They approached the creature carefully, but for all intents and purposes it looked properly dead. Rafnarson's shot had hit it right on the bridge of the nose, and it lay in a pool of blood, it's massive teeth glittering yellow in the torchlight.

"Over here," a soldier said, beginning to tear at the debris blocking access to John.

"Get those prybars over here," the Brigadier barked. "You two," he said, pointing to two of Jonsson's men, "get that thing out of here so we can work, and don't hesitate to shoot it if it flinches. Medics," he called, "the area is clear, I want you here and ready to retrieve Mister Tinker."

The teams did their job, and in a few tense moments, they had cut an opening through which they could see his head.

Sarah Jane ran to his side. "He has a heart condition. He needs nitro pills right away. He couldn't move his arm after the attack, but they're right there around his neck," she told the medic.

"Yes ma'am," he nodded, taking a pill out of the emergency container around John's neck. He opened John's mouth carefully and slipped the pill under his tongue, then cut open his shirt and listened to his heartbeat. "Tachy and very weak. We need to get him to a medical facility ASAP," he said. "The nitro should help and we can give him more on the way if we have to. We're going to need to fly him there, get the Blackhawk over here now," he said.

In fact the helicopter was already hovering, but with so many trees it was impossible to land. Instead Sarah Jane could see a lowered stretcher basket swaying just outside the doorway before it was set carefully on the ground and disconnected from the cables suspending it. The cables swayed precariously, making everyone who stood by watch them warily.

Gently, the medics shifted John, pulling him free from the debris and onto a stretcher. The moment he was situated they literally ran for the door and the lowered basket, loading him into it and motioning for the chopper to lower the cables once more so they could attach them to the basket.

"I am going with him," Sarah Jane said to the Brigadier. In her mind it wasn't a question or even a request. She stood by John, never taking her eyes off of him. She was waiting for them to hook up the cable and prepared to hold on to the underside of the stretcher if necessary, but whatever it took, she was going with him.

The Brig took her by the arms as they hooked up the cables. "No, you're going to let them do their jobs. There's not room for you and the medics in the helicopter. We'll meet them at the hospital, come on." He dragged her towards the jeep.

"John needs me," she cried out, "and I need to be with him. What would you do if it was Doris laying there possibly dying? Would you leave her?"

He picked her up and put her into the Jeep. "If it was a choice between me and the medic, yes." He threw the car into gear before she could argue, or worse yet, jump. "I suggest you fasten your safety belt, I don't plan to spare the horses."

* * *

Sarah Jane Tinker glared at the man driving the jeep she had been thrown into against her will. "Never in my entire life Allistair Gordon Lethbridge Stewart have I been so mad at anyone. But I swear to you that I will never forget or forgive what you have done to me today. If John is gone by the time we get there it's your fault and I never want to see you again as long as I live!"

"Sarah Jane, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but what he needs right now is a medic trying to make sure that he stays alive. I know you don't like it but that's the cold, hard fact. It's hard enough to try and save someone's life on the ground, can you imagine trying to do it in a swaying helicopter?" He took a corner a little too sharply and Sarah was pushed up against her door. "The best thing we can do for him right now is let them work."

"Oh, it's far too late to do the best thing. You and UNIT failed to do the best thing for John when you brought him here. Why wasn't someone there with him to protect him at all times? He should never have been alone. We both trusted you. I hope you can live with that on your conscience," she spat at him.

"I should like to point out that I did not bring him here, if you recall. What's more, there was an entire squad of UNIT personnel there to protect him and the site, and some of them are already dead, thanks to Torchwood. So I'll thank you to remember who the real enemy is here."

"The fact remains that there should have been someone with him at all times. Why was he left alone to examine that ship? Answer that, I dare you."

"As it happens," he said, whipping around another corner, "I can't." He sped into the hospital unloading zone, ignoring the "ambulances only" sign, and pulled up in front of the door. "Go, I'll meet you."

Sarah lept out of the jeep almost before it stopped. She ran into the hospital, her heart pounding as she found the ER. "Where's John Tinker," she said to the first official looking person she saw.

The nurse looked at her, confused, then looked at a whiteboard. "We don't have a …"

The sound of a helicopter filled the air, and alarms and notifications began ringing.

"I'm sorry, the desk will have more information," the nurse said, and ran off with the rest of the team.

"Not bloody likely," said Sarah Jane as she grabbed a lab coat left on a chair in the ER and put it on, following the nurse to the helicopter pad on the roof.


	11. Chapter 11

By the time they arrived on the roof the medics had already hefted the basket onto the stretcher. John's shirt had been cut roughly up the middle and pads on his chest led to a portable ECG monitor next to him. His face was obscured by an oxygen mask, and the medic called out vitals to the doctors, who were already examining him as they hurried down the corridor towards the treatment rooms.

Sarah Jane followed them, watching John and listening to everything they were saying.

"Heartbeat is thready, have a crash cart ready in unit 7 and page code blue stat," said a man in blue scrubs.

John was quickly wheeled into room seven. The crash cart was waiting and the room had a cardiac team by the time he got there. They went to work on John immediately, inserting IVs, administering meds, connecting monitors, switching out oxygen masks.

Sarah stood toward the back of the room, unnoticed, watching every move the team made intently.

"Get that blood workup going," said a doctor to a nurse as he handed her several tubes of John's blood. "What's the ECG telling us?"

A young man in scrubs - surely he was too young to be a doctor! - stared at the needles moving across the paper strip. "Definite MI, ST's aren't too bad."

"Good, then let's just wait a few minutes to see if he responds to the thrombo drugs and pain meds before we take any further measures," the doctor said.

The room seemed to buzz with activity as they waited, each person intent on their own part of the puzzle. Sarah stood frozen, afraid to break the spell. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a nurse spoke up. "He seems to be stabilizing a bit, Doctor."

The doctor walked over to John and looked at his monitors. "Not as good as I'd like to see, but an improvement," He looked at John's face. "His color's still not good either, let's up his doses while we wait for the lab results and see if that helps any."

After a few more minutes of eternity, John started to stabilize.

"Much better," the doctor said with a smile. "We've got orders from up high somewhere to give this man the best care possible and spare no time or expense to do it. Not sure who this fellow is, but we'll keep a close eye on him. Tell them upstairs to get the best room they have in CICU ready for him. If he keeps improving, we'll bring him there soon.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. John was going to be alright. She wondered if it was the Brig who'd given the orders for special care. She'd have to apologize to him first chance she got. Right now she just wanted John to wake up and smile at her, and to smother him with kisses.

Suddenly John's body started to shake as if he were coming apart.

"Doctor," called out a nurse with alarm.

The doctor stopped talking to the ECG tech and ran to John's side.

"Damn," he said. "Stokes-Adams attack. We've got to get him to surgery now."

John's gurney was dashed into surgery with Sarah Jane running behind it.

"What's happened," she asked the nurse she was running beside.

"Are you an intern," the nurse scolded. "This man has a blood clot and it could kill him if we don't operate at once.

"No, no, no, he can't be dying, you've got to save him."

They reached the door of the surgery and the nurse turned to her. "You know that you can't come in here," she said as she went in and left Sarah standing outside the door banging to be let in.

"You better open this door or I'll get Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart in here and you'll have to answer to both of us," Sarah said menacingly. "You won't like it if you get on his bad side. He'll take your names down and then he'll kick-"

There was a tap on her shoulder and she turned around to see a massive security guard. "You'll want to step away from that door now and come back into the waiting room." He stepped between her and the door, arms crossed, like a giant stone statue.

Sarah Jane pulled herself up to her full height of five foot four and glared at the man who was towering over her. He was at least a foot or more taller than her, but at the moment it didn't matter if he were ten feet tall. If he put himself between her and John, he had to go. She eyed him for a moment sizing up his position and where he would be the most vulnerable.

"Please move out of my way," Sarah said trying to look as pathetic and helpless as she could. "That's my husband they've got in there and he needs me."

"Ma'am, I can't let you into a sterile environment while a patient is having surgery." He didn't budge.

"If you just let me by, I promise I'll scrub up before I enter the room." She looked up at him sweetly. "Look, I won't cause any trouble, I promise."

"I know you won't cause any trouble, because you're not going in there. Now you have three choices here. You can go to the waiting room, I can escort you to the waiting room, or I can have someone escort you to jail, and you won't be here when your husband comes out of surgery. Which is it to be, ma'am?"

Sarah Jane put one hand on her hip in anger and frustration and shook a finger at the guard with the other. "Right, I tried to be nice about this, but I'm warning you, I have some very important friends in high places and if you don't let me in there, it could just cost you your job."

"It's all right," the Brigadier said, appearing from around the corner, "I'll take it from here," he told the guard. He handed Sarah a cup of cafeteria tea. "I heard banging and yelling and figured it had to be you."

Sarah looked at him with relief. "Thank heavens you're here, they took John into surgery and they won't let me stay with him. Tell them to let me in, please."

"Sarah Jane, don't be absurd, you're not going into the operating room." He sighed. 'Typical,' he thought. 'Absolutely typical.' There was a time when he'd thought that with the Doctor out of the picture and John in her life, she'd settle down and raise her children instead of raising hell. But he knew that whatever else she may be, inside, she was still that feisty young girl who bluffed her way into a top secret conference just to get a story, and she always would be.

He put an arm around her shoulder and started guiding her towards the waiting room. "Besides," he said, pointing to her stolen lab coat, "as I was making some calls it got back to me that 'some daft woman' was threatening the surgical staff with my name. You're lucky I had them call off the dogs."

Sarah let herself be led by the Brig; she was smart enough to realize she had been out numbered, at least for now. She sat down and took a long deep breath. "I'm so sorry I yelled at you, Allistair, I'm just so worried about John and I know he needs me by his side. I just wish I could get the people around here to understand that." She ran her hands through her hair, rubbing her head with distress.

"I know," he said. "The waiting is the hardest part. As soon as we know what he needs we'll have the foremost specialists ready and waiting. The UN is preparing a plane right now to take him wherever he needs to go for the best possible care once he's stabilized."

"That's only IF they can save him," she folded her arms and bit her lip. She just wanted to go in there and tear through everything until all that was left was her and John.


	12. Chapter 12

John was already on a ventilator and prepped by the time Dr. Arason had scrubbed up and walked into the operating room.

"No time for off pump, we'll have to go on pump," the surgeon said. He stood expectantly, flexing his fingers in their latex gloves as he waited to hear that John was completely under and ready for him. "He's very unstable, be careful with that," he warned the anesthesiologist.

"Don't worry about me, I'm keeping a close eye on him. You though, you've got enough problems with him," the anesthesiologist shot back. "If you're not careful it won't matter how well I do."

In a few moments John was lying still and sleeping soundly, and they were ready for the surgery to proceed. The anesthesiologist gave the surgeon a thumbs up.

"OK team," said Arason. "Start up the symphony. We're going in." He nodded to the head nurse, and Chopin began to play from the speakers at the far side of the room.

The surgeon started by harvesting blood vessels from John's leg. He set them gently aside in a their designated tray, waiting for the moment that they would become grafts, carrying blood around the blockage. Once he was done, he proceeded to make an incision along John's sternum then carefully opened his chest cavity. "I'm ready to give this poor tired heart a break. Let's stop it shall we," he said.

A nurse handed Arason a huge syringe filled with potassium solution, and as he injected John's heart they watched it begin to slow, starting up the heart-lung machine and stopping the ventilator. He moved more quickly now, making a small opening on either side of the blockage and placing two grafts around it, one end of each graft connected to John's coronary artery, and the other to his aorta.

Arason and the team watched for a moment, waiting for signs of leakage, waiting for confirmation that blood flow had been rerouted, waiting tense moments to make sure that their work was done. Finally, satisfied, the surgeon took the small internal paddles from the nurse and placed them on either side of John's heart, starting it again with a small jolt of electricity.

The whir of the ventilator filled the room as he asked the nurse to turn it on and they shut off the heart-lung machine as he returned John's sternum to it's original position and closed him up.

"Time," Arason asked as the last suture was clipped.

"Three hours, 47 minutes, Doctor," the surgical nurse answered. "Pretty good. You're quite the expert Jakob."

"That's why they called me in," he winked. "They specifically asked for the best," he said as he walked out of the OR whistling the Polonaise to himself.

A nurse ran up to him just as he came out of the door, almost knocking into him. "Doctor, Mr. Tinker's lab work just came back and you've got to look at it right away."

He took the results from her and read them. "You know what to do," he told the nurse. He still had them in his hands when he ran back into the OR. "Don't move him back to recovery yet. He's got to go to isolation. He's potentially infectious; it most likely may kill him and we can't expose it or him to anyone else. Quarantine procedures." With that he went back into the scrub room to clean himself as thoroughly as he could.

The anesthesiologist followed him. "What the hell does the poor sod have, Jakob?" he asked.

"That's part of the problem Dag, it's some unknown sort of systemic infection and the lab people say they have no idea what it is." The Doctor dried off his hands and reached for his lab coat. "I'm going down there right now to talk to them before we have to lock down this entire wing. You take over for me till I get back. Just see to it that Tinker's properly cared for because he should be in post op right now. In fact, have someone from post op go to isolation with him and make sure he's closely monitored every second."

Just to be sure, he put on a clean set of scrubs before donning his lab coat and headed out to the lab.

Sarah Jane was still right outside the OR when he came out and she recognized him. Forgetting she still had the lab coat on, she leapt at him. "Doctor, how is my husband, and what's going on? Why has there been an announcement about a lockdown?" she said anxiously.

"I'm sorry," he said, "you are…?"

"Mrs. John Tinker," she said.

"Ah, yes. Mrs. Tinker." He weighed his words carefully. "As far as your husband's condition, for the moment, he is stable. He suffered a massive heart attack, followed by a blocked artery. We were able to do a bypass and solve that problem, and under normal circumstances I'd say that he had a reasonable chance of recovery. But as for the lockdown, your husband seems to have contracted some sort of systemic infection, and I've had him isolated until we know what we're dealing with. I was actually just on my way down to the lab to find out more information, so I'm afraid I don't have much more to go on."

"Did you say an infection?" the Brig asked.

"Yes, as I said I don't have more than that. His blood work shows a massive reaction by his immune system, sort of like a … super-autoimmune reaction. It's almost as if his body is … killing itself from the inside."

"Killing itself," Sarah Jane repeated, trying to absorb this new complication. "Surely there must be something you can do. You can't just give up on him."

The Brig stepped up next to her. "Not to worry, Sarah Jane, I'm in charge of everything now," he said, tightening his arm around her. Then he turned to the Doctor. "I've already made all the necessary arrangements to have Mr. Tinker taken to the best hospital for whatever it is that he needs, whether that's England or abroad. Where would you recommend, and how soon can he be safely transferred?"

The doctor looked at him as though he hadn't heard a word. "Sir, I don't think you understand. This man is in isolation. He has some sort of unidentified infection. We don't know if it's contagious, and we don't know how to treat it. If you move him from here you could create a worldwide pandemic. That's what this lockdown is about. We're going to have to locate anyone who's had contact with him in the last 48 hours."

"Sir, you are dealing with UNIT now and my people can handle anything," the Brigadier said with authority. "Simply tell me when he will be fit enough and we will take it from there."

The doctor hesitated, and his face changed. "I … don't know when he'll be fit," he said guardedly.

The Brig wasn't buying it. "Very well then, I'll have my medical staff take over your isolation unit and they'll decide when he's ready to be moved," he said.

"Look," the doctor emphasised, "you can't just come in here and -"

"I think you'll find, Doctor, that I can do exactly that."


	13. Chapter 13

Once the Brig had arranged for a UNIT medical team to take over the isolation ward, he turned his attention to the problem at hand, putting in a call to the remains of the UNIT detail that had been in charge on the scene.

"Einarsson," he said, "the protocol is to make certain that the ship is free of alien organisms before allowing someone like Mister Tinker aboard. Why wasn't that done in this case?"

"Sir, it was. The ship isn't the source of the infection. I'm afraid we have a pretty good idea of what was. The dead creature had a bite mark on its hand - a very human-looking bite mark. We're doing tests to confirm, but it's likely that that's where the infection came from."

The Brig nodded, even though Einarsson couldn't see him over the phone. "All right. I want you to pack up that thing's body and send it over to the airfield. We're bringing it back to London with us. Make sure it's isolated, just in case."

He finished up his call and dialed again. "Sergeant," he said, "put me through to Buckingham Palace."

* * *

Horace Dewhurst finished reading the report that had been timidly placed on his desk and slammed it down furiously. The air in his office filled with language that made his secretary cringe with fear. She could imagine what was going to happen next and she knew that things were going to get ugly very soon for her boss.

"Miss Billingsley," Dewhurst screamed, not bothering with the intercom.

The secretary jumped up, then hesitated for a second before she forced herself to stand as stiffly as she could before she walked into the office. She didn't wait for his orders. Instead she opened the door, saying, "I've taken the liberty of sending for Mr. Rainsford, sir, he should arrive in about ten minutes."

"Good." boomed Dewhurst. "Send him here the moment he walks in."

"Of course sir," she said, then turned to leave. As she carefully closed the door behind her, she silently thanked her maker that she was not Rainsford.

When "Dewhurst's Mad Dog" arrived, it was without his usual swagger. "I know," he said.

The secretary nodded towards the door behind her with a slight smile. 'About time he gets put in his place,' she thought to herself as he walked back to her desk. She wasn't the only one who felt that the time to put down this particular mad dog was long overdue; to say he would not be missed would be an understatement.

Miss Billingsley opened one of her desk drawers, pulled out a bottle of her boss's ulcer meds, sat back, took a sip from her cup of tea and prepared to enjoy the screaming fest that was about to ensue.

She didn't have to wait long, Dewhurst looked up as Rainsford walked in and growling at him, began his tirade. "I gave you a simple job with explicit orders. Tinker was **not** to be hurt. Now he's in the middle of open heart surgery, and his odds of survival don't look very good. How could you have botched this so badly?"

"Look, Horace, everything went precisely according to plan. You said don't hurt him, we didn't. You said scare him into quitting, that's what we did. We even made sure we left enough of the UNIT team alive so they would get free in plenty of time to rescue him. How was I supposed to know he'd have a heart attack?"

"Yes and even with all that in place you still managed to fail miserably. And now I'm getting calls from the Crown. It seems our friend Lethbridge-Stewart has friends in higher places than we thought, and they're very, very upset. I've got three messages from the UN Secretary General already piled up. There are only so many meetings I can pretend to be in, Rainsford."

"Well, then," Rainsford said, once again feeling comfortable, "it seems there's only one thing for us to do."

"What's that?"

"Win. We need to get our hands on that ship at all costs and show the Crown that despite the occasional unfortunate incident or uncomfortable diplomatic situation, the British Empire is still better off with Torchwood than without us."

Dewhurst smiled. "I do believe sometimes that you are the devil himself, Rainsford. Now get out of my sight and don't contact me again till you have your hands on that ship."

Rainsford didn't say a word, entirely unaware that as he left, he rubbed his hands together.

* * *

The Brig sat next to Sarah Jane sharing the lunch he had had sent in for them. She seemed to be a bit calmer now, but only because she knew that John was still holding on. His phone rang and he picked it up. "Lethbridge Stewart here."

"It's Jack," he heard. "You sound calmer, got time for an explanation?"

"Hang about, I'll be right with you." He turned to Sarah Jane as he stood up. "I'm sorry my dear, I have to take this. I'll be just around the corner if you need me."

Sarah nodded absently as she drank her tea and continued to stare at the doors that kept her from John while she waited for someone to tell her she could go see him.

The Brig walked away just far enough to be out of earshot, but still close enough to see if someone came out to talk to them. "Alright then Jack, I can talk now but not for long," he said.

"OK, so I figured it was pretty important or you wouldn't even have asked. What the hell is going on over there?" There was a pause. "And why are you calling me from Iceland?"

"I'm afraid there's been an incident concerning our friend John Tinker. He's in a bad way and he may not make it, Jack."

"What? What happened? Did he enter the code wrong? I would think he could disable something like that without even having the code."

"No, nothing like that. The code worked beautifully, thank you. John was brought here to investigate an unauthorized landing by an unknown space vessel. There was a crash and we had no idea about where it was from and why it was here. Seems that everything was going along fine until a group from Torchwood arrived, killed a good number of the UNIT team, and locked John inside the ship with a brown hairless creature with a huge gaping mouth full of very sharp teeth. Bombs were set around everything so no one could get to John once the remaining personnel freed themselves."

"You're kidding," Jack said. "He must have been terrified. I'd ask if he's OK, but obviously he's not. Do you know what it was?"

"No, but weirdly enough, the monstrous thing was wearing a silver jumpsuit of sorts. No idea what it is, but it's dead now and we're bringing it to England with us as soon as we can move John."

"It's a Weevil," Jack spat. "It's a damned Weevil. If it bit him he's lucky he's alive at all, they usually just rip out the whole throat in one go."

"No, it didn't bite him. He had a heart attack when it went after him and he had to undergo open heart surgery. However, it seems that he bit the blasted thing trying to keep it away from him and the doctors here think he's gotten a deadly infection from it."

Jack was quiet for a minute. "They're pretty septic, the Weevils, but he should be able to fight that off with a combination of antibiotics and antivirals. I'll send your office a recommendation…" He seemed to think for a moment. "But some of those drugs are pretty tough themselves. If he's just had a bypass, I don't know if he could survive the meds. And actually I think I'd have to send over some of the meds themselves, they're not in common circulation."

"Jack, I don't suppose you know if John is contagious or not, do you?"

"Contagious? No, that's rubbish. As long as nobody bites him, they'll be fine."

"Thank you, I'll inform the medical team. Can you include everything you have on that Weevil thing, if you could it would be a great help to us. By the way, Sarah Jane is here with me, the poor woman's gone through pretty much the whole ordeal. John's been touch and go since we rescued him. She's holding up for now but I don't know how much longer she can manage. If John's condition doesn't improve soon, we may need to get a room here for her as well."

"I'll send you the file, but UNIT owes me a big favor on this one," Jack said.

Before the Brig could answer him, Sarah Jane came dashing around the corner.

"There you are," she said catching her breath. "Doctor Sanders is looking for you. He says that John is stable enough to move now."

"Wonderful," he told her, then turned back to the phone. "Anything else?"

"No, I'll get the file messengered over," Jack said. "Good luck."


	14. Chapter 14

Sarah Jane stood on the tarmac, staring at the open rear door of the Concorde, waiting anxiously to see her husband. She thought about everything she wanted to say to to him. Almost losing him had once again made her realize how short life could be, but now, she was smiling and grateful because she knew in her heart that everything was finally going to be alright. John had pulled through the surgery and now that they knew he wasn't contagious, the quarantine had been lifted. She sensed someone approaching and looked over to see the Brigadier heading towards her.

"Oh Alistair, isn't it wonderful? I'm so relieved I could burst. I mean, I know he still has to beat this virus, but I'm sure that with the doctors that you're getting to care for him, it won't be a problem for long. I just hope I won't have to wait much longer to see him. I have so much to tell him and oh, I just want to be able to hug him and tell him how much I love him." Sarah looked at the Brigadier, still smiling. "I don't suppose you could pull pull just one more tiny little string and get them to let me see John right now, could you?"

"Now, Sarah Jane," the Brig said, "before we board, there's something I need to -"

A soldier appeared at the open rear door, saluting. "Sir! We're ready for you and Mrs. Tinker now," he called.

She rushed to the open door as fast as she could before the Brigadier could stop her. All she wanted right now was to see John smiling at her and to hold him. She all but took the steps two at a time; if the climb hadn't been so steep, she would have.

Once she was on the plane she quickly brushed past everyone, then stopped short as she saw her husband.

John lay on a stretcher that was secured to the floor of the plane where two rows of seats had been hastily removed to make room for him. He looked almost like one of his own contraptions, hooked up to wires coming from all sorts of medical devices that stood behind him.

"John," she called softly. He seemed so lifeless to her. He didn't even seem to be breathing. "John," she called out louder, but got no response.

She turned to the medics. "Why isn't he awake? He should have come out of the anesthetic by now. He doesn't even look like he's breathing! Why don't you do something," she demanded.

Doctor Sanders stood up. "I'm sorry ma'am, we had to put him into a medically induced coma. It's the safest way to care for him right now. The less he moves, the better it is for him. That's why his breathing is so shallow. It gives his body time to recuperate too. He's been through a lot and his body can't fight back if he's too weak."

The Brig finally reached the top of the steps. "Sarah Jane," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "I was trying to tell you. It's all right, this is what's best for him now. He needs all of his strength to fight the infection and the reaction to it." He sat her down in a seat next to the stretcher and then took the one beside her. He put his hand on hers. "You need to be strong for him now. I know that you can do that."

Sarah stared at John's face, watching the fog ebb and flow on the inside of his oxygen mask. She'd just assumed that when she finally got to see him, that they'd talk, and it would be all right, and they'd fight this together. She'd come so close to losing him, to not seeing his smile, or hearing his voice again… she pushed that aside.

The Brig was right of course, she had to think of what was best for John. She forced herself to calm down and concentrated on what she needed to do.

Funny, she mused, most people always saw John as the mild mannered, soft-spoken member of her family, but the truth was, he was its rock solid foundation. He had been from the start. He was her anchor, the soothing voice of reason in a sea of chaos. He was always there for her, always had her back and always understood how she felt.

John was the one truly reliable person in her life.

He needed her to be strong, and she had to put his needs first and forget about her feelings for now. This was not the time for tears; later, when everything was alright and they were laughing and smiling, then she could let herself cry tears of joy. "Sorry," she said quietly to everyone in the plane as she sat down. "Won't happen again. Thank you all for taking such good care of my husband. I'll leave you to your work now."

She squeezed the Brig's hand as she stared at John, willing him to be strong and live.

* * *

Jack waited for Harry to pick up his phone, wondering if he was still in England, and whether his decision to stay in Cardiff in case they needed Torchwood resources was the right one.

"Sullivan here," Harry answered.

"Harry, it's Jack. I need to know, are you still in England, by any chance, or are you back in the wilds of Africa inoculating suspicious trees?"

"Very funny, Jack. As it happens, I just now finished packing. I was planning to go out for a few hours before I have to go and catch my plane back," Harry said, grabbing his hotel key and putting it in his pocket.

"I hope you have a refundable ticket, because you're going to want to change your plans. John's in a bad way. They're flying him back from Iceland right now via Concorde."

"Oh dear, I don't like the sound of that at all. If they're flying him back like that, it's really quite serious. Does Sarah Jane know about this?"

"She's with him. Listen, I need to send you some secure documents related to his treatment. I already had a messenger hand-carry a copy over to the Alistair's office, but I'm guessing you don't have access to that anymore, right?"

"Yes, that's right, send them round to the Regent London. It'll only take me half a tick to cancel my arrangements. As soon as the papers arrive I'll head out. Do you know where they are taking him when the plane lands and what's wrong with him?"

"Not sure where they're taking him, but Alistair will know, of course. He's there too. And what's wrong with him… well, he's had a heart attack and he's contracted a systemic infection from biting an alien, and right now it's a race to see which one kills him first."

"I say, that's far too much for someone in John's already weakened state to deal with. I better get down there. If the Brigadier is involved, then they're most likely taking him to the UNIT HQ hospital. I'll ring up there and see what I can find out. I'll call you back when I have the information we need."

* * *

Harry had changed his travel plans and began the next call he had to make. He was dreading this one, but now that the plane had landed, it had to be done. He waited while the phone rang.

"Lethbridge-Stewart."

"Harry Sullivan here,sir. I'm calling about John Tinker. I just found out what happened."

"Ah, Doctor Sullivan," the Brig said. Harry mused at how he dropped in and out of formalities as the events required. Clearly he was still in "Brigadier" mode, which meant that he was still pulling strings. "Yes, bad business, this. I assume you found out from our mutual friend?"

'Yes, sir, I did. Can you tell me how Sarah Jane is doing? I'm worried about her as well."

"Well, she won't leave his side, as you might imagine. She's debating what to tell the children; they're calling it a medically induced coma, so she keeps going back and forth about whether to have them come down."

"Is she with you now? I'd be happy to do anything I can to help her. If she needs me to call her children or go pick them up and bring them there, then tell her, I'm her man."

"I should think you'd be chomping at the bit to get down here," the Brig said.

"I am," Harry said, pacing as he talked. "But I want to make sure Sarah Jane is alright first."

"Listen, perhaps she will feel better if she knows you'll pick up the children. Let me go ask her. I'll call you back in a moment."

* * *

The Brig walked into the sickbay's intensive care unit. Somehow it seemed there was even more machinery here than there had been on the plane, and he was certain that John looked paler and more gray than he had before.

Sarah Jane sat next to him, holding his hand, staring at the monitor as though she could make it change.

Gently, he said, "Sarah," so he wouldn't startle her by putting a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him. "Have you heard from the Doctors?" she asked in a small voice. "They won't tell me anything."

"No, I've been trying to make sure everything's all arranged. But I got a call from Harry. He wants to know whether he can pick up the children on his way in."

"Oh, that's so kind of him. Please tell him yes, but not to say anything that will frighten them. They need to hear about their father from me."

"Of course," the Brig said, and left her alone with her husband.

* * *

Sarah Jane dialed the phone that the Matron had been kind enough to let her use at the Sister's station.

"Sunrise Cottage Assisted Living, how may I help you?"

"May I please speak to Miss Lavinia Smith? This is her niece calling," Sarah said.


	15. Chapter 15

"One moment ma'am, I'll ring her room for you."

After a few moments, Sarah Jane could hear Lavinia coming down the hall, bellowing, "Well, one moment, I'm not as fast as I used to be!" Half a minute later, she was on the phone, just a little breathless. "Ah, Sarah Jane, how was Iceland?"

"Not good Auntie, not good at all. John had a heart attack and had to have emergency surgery. He's back here in England now at the UNIT Hospital and he's been put in a coma because he got some unknown virus in Iceland. I was hoping you could help us."

"Some unknown virus? Poppycock. I'll be down there as soon as I can get a minicab. Don't you worry." And with that, she hung up.

* * *

Harry pulled into the driveway at 13 Bannerman Road and sat for a few moments, staring. How do you bring the three smartest children in the world to a hospital without them figuring out their ailing father is dying?

You lie, he thought.

Shaking his head, he got out of the car and knocked on the door.

After having K-9 make sure it was safe, Lisa Ann answered it. "Hello, Uncle Harry," she said with a cheery smile. "Mum asked you to check up on us I'll bet. Tell her we're fine and not to worry. Want to come in," she asked as she moved to let him by. "I've got the boys to help me clean up and we're going to have a welcome home surprise party for mum and dad when they get back on Wednesday next."

Harry's stomach ached when he saw the handmade welcome home banners draped across the whole of the front room. They were so enthusiastic. In his mind's eye he saw them coming home from the hospital without their father and seeing that waiting for them.

K-9 stood at the door and wagged his tail. "Greetings, it is good to see you once more," he said.

"Thank you, K-9," Harry said, then turned to Lisa. "Actually, your mum did send me over, but not to check up. She's with Uncle Alistair at the hospital in London." He held a hand up to stop their questions. "Don't worry, Uncle Alistair is going to be just fine, but she wanted the three of you to come down with me to help cheer him up."

Sid walked up to him, eating an apple. "Why's mum with Uncle Alistair and not Dad," he asked, taking a bite as he waited for the answer.

"Because your dad went to Iceland, and before she went to Iceland, she called Uncle Alistair, and Uncle Alistair asked her to come to the hospital," Harry said. All true statements, he reminded himself, if not a complete picture.

Lisa Ann turned to the boys. "Ready to go, fellows?"

"Sure, just let me grab my jacket," said Luke.

"You and Sid get your jackets, I'm going to go pick some flowers from the garden for Uncle Alistair. I'm sure mum won't mind, since they're for a good cause," said Lisa Ann.

Luke waited for Lisa to head out back, and for Sid to go upstairs for his own jacket. "What's wrong with Uncle Alistair, Uncle Harry?"

Harry was pretty sure the jig was up; Luke was probably the quietest of the three, but a 20 year old who looked 10 had the advantage of surprise, more often than not. He tried to hold Luke's stare. "I'm not sure, I just know there's some sort of virus involved."

Luke squinted at him for a moment, then went upstairs to get his jacket.

* * *

Sarah Jane stood next to John holding his hand, stroking his forehead and softly talking to him. "You need to be strong, my love, strong for me and the children. We need you, so please fight this thing that's inside of you and beat it. I know you can do it, sweetheart. I know you'd never leave me alone and lost without you. You're my very life, without you there is no me." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

John lay there not moving in his medically induced coma. Machine levels went up and down, lights pulsed and sensors made noises, but he was oblivious to it all. Somewhere in the back of her mind she took comfort in the fact that his pulse seemed to quicken slightly when she kissed him. His face seemed somehow softer than she expected, almost if it were slightly swollen, though looking at him she was sure she was wrong. She took his hand, wondering if it was redder than it had been before, but before she could complete the thought, she heard heard her children coming down the hall. They got quiet as they drew closer to the room and saw their father and not their uncle lying so still in the bed.

All but Luke. Luke stood stock still, as if he'd been expecting it, while Sid and Lisa Ann stared in shock.

Harry came directly in and gave Sarah a quick hug before making a beeline for the chart at the end of the bed.

"Thank you so much, Harry. I can't tell you how glad I am to know you're here and taking care of John."

She turned to her children, who stood there frozen, all three pairs of eyes glued to their father. "Hello my darlings. Daddy's very ill, so they are keeping him asleep so he'll have the strength to get better." She stretched out her arms to them. "Come give me a hug, please. I really need one from each of you right now."

Sid stared for a moment, then glared at Harry. "You lied to us," he said. "You said it was Uncle Alistair, and that he was going to be OK."

"I'm sorry, Sid," Harry said, "I -"

"He told us the truth," Luke said. "Just not the whole truth. Uncle Alistair is here at the hospital, isn't he, Uncle Harry. And he's not sick, so he's going to be fine. And Dad did go to Iceland, you just didn't mention that something happened to him." His lip quivered slightly, and Sarah could see tears beginning to well up, even as he tried to blink them away.

"He knew what we would think," Lisa Ann said. "He lied to us." She turned to her mother. "Mum did you tell him to lie to us," she asked, confused and hurt.

"All I told Uncle Harry to do was not tell you what was going on so I could be with you when you found out. I thought it would be best if we were all together when -"

"We're not children," Sid said, feeling betrayed. "You could have trusted us!"

"That's right," Lisa said, looking at her mother, her hurt now growing into anger. "How could you -"

"ENOUGH!" Harry's shout resounded through the room, and even the nurses in the hallway turned to look. The children looked at him, stunned. "Your father is very, very sick," he finally said, "I knew you'd be upset when you found out, and I wanted you to be with your mum when you did. Your mum has enough to deal with without you sniping at her. Try," he finished, "to be mature, and remember what's important here, can you?"

Sid and Lisa Ann stared at the floor, but Luke walked slowly to Sarah Jane and gave her a hug. "What's wrong with him?"


	16. Chapter 16

Sarah gave Luke a kiss on the cheek and pulled him close to her. "He had a heart attack when he was attacked by a huge alien monster. He bit the creature to defend himself and he got an infection from it. The doctor put daddy to sleep till he gets better. He can't talk but I think he can hear us."

With that, Lisa Ann and Sid ran into her arms too, kissing her and clinging to the security of their mother's arms.

Luke looked up at Harry. "Do you really think he can hear us, Uncle Harry?"

Harry looked up from the chart and seemed to take a moment to analyze the question. "Yes, they say that patients in this condition can hear and feel, so maybe if there's anything you want to say to him, maybe tell him that you love him, now would be a good time to do that. I'm sure he'd like to hear it."

Lisa Ann walked up to her father and kissed his cheek. "I love you daddy, please get well soon."

Sid walked over and though he usually felt he was too old to be very affectionate, he gave his dad a kiss on the cheek too. "I love you too, Dad, and just remember, my birthday's coming up soon and you promised to take me to the Ashes game this year. I want to see England thump the Australians."

Harry excused himself. "Sarah Jane, I'm going to check in with the attending. Call if you need anything, I'll be back in a tick."

Luke waited for his siblings to step back so he could get close, then took his dad's hand. "Dad, I just … I want you to get better because everybody misses you. Mum's been crying, and you know how you hate that." Still too short to give him a hug or a kiss over the bed rails, he just squeezed his hand. "He feels so warm," he said to nobody in particular. "I guess I just thought he'd feel … cold." He turned to his mother. "Mum, isn't there anything they can do?"

Sarah put her hand on his shoulder. "They're doing everything they can now, son," she said. Then she leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Would you like me to pick you up so you can kiss your dad?"

He leaned over and whispered back to her, "He's dying, isn't he."

Sarah Jane pulled back from him in horror. "No," she said. "Never say that Luke, it's isn't true, it's just not true." Sarah Jane wanted to break down and just cry her heart out. She was afraid that Luke might be right; he was always more aware of everything than humans were. She to managed to get herself under control, though. It wouldn't do to let the children see her fall apart.

"But there's got to be something that they can do," Luke said. He stood, determined. "What about the Doctor? He'd be able to help."

Sarah Jane thought about it. 'Yes the Doctor could save John somehow,' she thought. 'He'd know what to do for John's infection.' Her heart leapt at the thought, but then she realized that there was no way to contact the Doctor, and besides, she wasn't sure if he'd answer her even if he **did** get the message. Her hopes were dashed once more. "We have no way of reaching him, and even if we could, I'm not sure there's anything he could do," said Sarah.

She could see the gears turning in Luke's mind. "But what about that beacon that dad built? He always said he never knew whether it would have worked or not."

Sarah paused for a moment. "I suppose it could be worth a try." She knelt down and took her son by the shoulders. "Luke, do you know how to operate that machine?"

"Dad wouldn't ever let me near it, but I could try," he said. He put his jacket back on. "Is Uncle Alistair actually here? Could he send somebody to take me home?"

"Yes Luke, he's still here," said Sarah Jane. "Want to go with me to see if we can get someone to page him or something?"

"That's OK, mum, I can handle it." He made his way out to the nurse's station, and a few moments later, they heard the page go out.

* * *

Harry stepped out of John's room, glad to put a little distance between himself and the overwhelming emotions. As a doctor he'd trained to be objective, but this was still his best friend, even if he had been his patient for the last twenty-odd years. Not to mention his feelings for Sarah Jane and the children. He knew he was definitely too involved, but he couldn't just stand by and not do all he could.

The chart looked grim. Ever since John had first been kidnapped by Torchwood, Harry had seen his level of auto-immune response climbing, ever so slightly every year. It was responsible for his arthritis, and it exacerbated the cardiac problems he already had. Now, with the introduction of this alien microbe, the autoimmune response was off the charts.

He shook his head, realizing that they'd had to make a choice between letting his immune system continue to degrade his condition, and giving him an immunosuppressant and potentially letting the alien microbe kill him. He wasn't sure he agreed with their decision.

True, the microbe might kill him. Or it might not. But his immune system definitely would if they didn't take action, and soon.

He looked up from his reverie and saw Lavinia coming toward him. "Ah, Lavinia, good to see you up and around."

"Hello Old Boot," she said to him. "I'm glad to see you too. Now then, what can you tell me about John's condition?"

"Well, other than serious cardiac issues, he's contracted some sort of alien virus that's triggered a massive autoimmune response. They should be giving him an immunosuppressant but I suspect they aren't because they're afraid the microbe will take over, which it very well might."

"How much does Sarah Jane know, and how well is she holding up?"

"Well, you can see," he said, pointing to the glass-walled room where Sarah sat with her children. "She knows the situation is pretty bad, but I'm not sure she knows just HOW bad."

Lavinia looked over at her niece and her family. She made her decision on the spot. "I'm not needed in there as much as I am in the lab," she said as she geared up mentally for battle. "Show me where they are working on the test results. I have work to do."

* * *

Luke asked the UNIT driver to wait, then ran through the house and out into the back garden, where his father's fix-it shop still stood. It was locked up, but he'd long ago learned how to remove the loose board so he could jimmy it open from the inside.

Once he had the door open, he knew exactly where to look. Like any curious boy, he hadn't really ever taken "no" for an answer. While some young men his age could remember looking at "adult" material their parents had stashed in hiding places, for him the forbidden was one very special box.

It had been carefully buried in the back of the shed, behind several other boxes. Each time Luke took it out, he was careful to put it back in such a way that his father wouldn't notice that he'd been playing with it. Now it was time to try and see just how much he'd figured out.

He tore open the box - no point being careful now - and looked at the beacon. Grabbing a screwdriver off his father's workbench, he opened the casing as he'd done a dozen times before.

He'd never had the nerve to turn it on, of course. His father had told him about what had happened the last time. But on discussion, they'd gradually come to the idea that the problem hadn't really been the beacon at all; that it had been that mum and the Doctor had been taken out of time. He and Uncle Jack were just fortunate enough to have been standing in a temporal bubble generated by the beacon at the moment everything went haywire.

Slowly, carefully, he manipulated jumper switches and re-routed wires, hoping the new message was going to make sense. "Sarah Jane needs you," it would say. "UNIT Hospital."

Then he grabbed it up and ran back to the attic, where he grabbed alligator clips and attached it to some open breadboards on his own desk. Sitting at the keyboard, in a moment he'd written a simple program to use the Internet to amplify the signal. On reflection it would certainly cause a disruption - probably a major one, but he didn't care. (Still, he put a few subtle clues in the mix to point to a non-existent ISP in Florida.)

He closed the cover and took a deep breath. He'd studied this beacon backwards and forwards for years. He thought he understood how it worked. If he was right, he could save his dad's life. If he was wrong, he could destroy everything.

But then, if his dad died, did anything else matter?

He flipped the switch.


	17. Chapter 17

The light at the top of the box began pulsing, but other than that, nothing seemed to happen. Luke ran back through the house, praying the UNIT car was still there.

It was.

He let out the breath he'd been holding and jumped in the back seat. "OK, let's go back," he said.

* * *

Miles Danforth stared at the sample that currently occupied his microscope. In all of his years as a virologist, he'd never seen this particular microbe before, and if it weren't for the fact that a man's life hung in the balance three floors above him, he'd have been bouncing off the walls with excitement. But it was, in fact, a matter of life and death, and he just couldn't wrap his head around how they were behaving. He looked back at the book that he was reading, scouring it for any type of clue as to how to deal with an organism that seemed to be acting in concert with all of its compatriots, as though they were all acting under a single coordinating influence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a commotion at the door.

"I'm sorry," he heard Michaelson saying, "you can't just come in here, it's a laboratory. Patient information is down the hall."

"I'm here to see my nephew and to help his doctor, now let me by or I'll see to it that you're docked a week's pay," said the woman he was struggling with.

"Ma'am, your nephew's doctor isn't in here," he said slowly, apparently assuming the silver-haired elderly woman suffered from some sort of impairment. "This is a laboratory." He motioned towards the equipment. "See? We just test things here, we don't actually treat patients."

Miles took a look at the woman. Then he looked back at his book. Then he looked at the elderly woman again.

"This is your final warning, let me by or I shall send for Dr. Jabethson and have you fired on the spot," she said.

Miles looked again at his book, not quite believing his eyes. "Michaelson," he finally said, "I think you'd better let her in."

"Miles, we can't just -"

He held up the book he was reading, and there, on the back cover of "Teleological Response of the Virus," was a picture of the author. "I'm willing to take the chance."

Michaelson looked at the book Miles was holding up and the photo, then at the woman scowling at him.

"So sorry I didn't recognize you immediately, ma'am," he said. He jumped out of her way. "Please feel free to go anywhere in here you want to."

The short silver haired elderly woman ignored him and walked up to Miles' desk and tapped her cane down in front of it. She was very determined, though a bit winded. "Excuse me, young man, I'd like to speak to whoever is in charge of running Mr. John Tinker's lab tests."

"That would be me, Miss Smith. Can I say that it's an honor to meet you? I'm a big fan of your work."

"Thank you, young man, now shall we get down to business? My nephew is in serious condition and we have no time to lose, but then you should know that already."

"I do, but I'm afraid I'm no closer to figuring out why. This organism it just … it's not like anything I've ever seen before. They assure me it's only transmitted through a bite, like rabies, but I confess I'm a little nervous about it."

"Let me see what results you already have, perhaps I can make some sense of it," she said, taking her coat off and rolling up her sleeves.

* * *

Sarah Jane sat with her children as they asked her about their father. She didn't have an answer for most of their questions, but she was there with them and John and that was the best she could do for now.

John's skin had been developing a bright red rash on his back and his tongue and his eyes had been swelling up very slowly over the last few minutes. When the pain in his stomach had become severe enough, he began to moan. He started writhing and alarms on the machines he was hooked up to began going off. His body had finally reached the point where things had become critical for him.

Suddenly the room was full of nurses, sisters and doctors and they were asking Sarah Jane and her family to leave the room immediately.

"What's happening to him," she cried out as she looked over at John, who now seemed to be choking.

"Please leave ma'am, we'll let you know how he is as soon as we can," was the only response she got as she and the children were quickly ushered out off the room.

They left the room but the four of them stood there watching, confused and frightened, until a sister noticed them and mouthed 'sorry' as she pulled the curtains across the window.

Sarah Jane stood there for a moment just staring at the curtains that stood between her and John. She wanted to scream and run back into the room but she knew a scene was the last thing the children needed, and it wouldn't help John at all.

The door to John's room opened up and a sister came running out. She dashed in front of Sarah Jane and over to a nearby supply closet. She grabbed what she came out for and flew back into John's room, but not before Sarah saw what she had in her hands. It was a box with the words "Intubation Kit" printed on it.

Sarah turned to her children. "Daddy is very sick, but we need to have faith in him and the doctors that are trying to help him get better."

Luke said nothing, and it spoke volumes.

The other children were quiet too.

Sarah Jane was still standing there motionless when she heard Lisa Ann cry out.

"Aunt Lavinia," said Lisa Ann. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you." She ran up to hug her aunt, and Sid followed her. Only Luke stayed by his mother's side.

"Ah, there you are, Sarah Jane," Lavinia said, hugging the children. "Where's Old Boot, I have to talk to him."

Almost as if on cue, Harry came around the corner. "There you are, I've never been so happy to hear you say that." He had another Doctor in tow. "This is Doctor Maston, he's the chief attending physician. What did you find out?"

"As you know, Dr. Sullivan, I've been here for quite some time working on what's wreaking havoc with John's immune system," said Lavinia. "The current treatment plan is all wrong, you know," she said as she handed Harry her results.

Harry looked at them and then at the doctor he had with him. "See? I told you," he insisted. He looked back at Lavinia. "Let me guess: immunosuppressants."

"On the nose, I'm quite impressed with you, young man. Turns out you are a very good doctor," she smiled at him.

"Never mind that now," Sarah Jane interrupted. "Something's gone terribly wrong with John and they won't even let me be with him. Harry can you go in please go in there and find out what's going on," Sarah pleaded with him. "They've been in there for what seems like forever. The only person that has come out of the room was a sister who got an intubation kit and ran back inside with it."

Harry didn't say a word. Instead he just ducked into the supply closet and grabbed two syringes, then ran into John's room. Sarah and the children could hear muffled shouting from inside John's room, and finally Doctor Maston strode over, opened the door and quietly said, "Enough. Do as Doctor Sullivan says."


	18. Chapter 18

Two doctors stormed out of John's room, fury in their eyes. One looked as though he might say something to Sarah, but then changed his mind and headed down the hallway.

Harry turned to the sister nearest him and ordered her to go get the meds he needed for John. She did and he quickly administered the dose that Lavinia had recommended. Then he turned and looked at John closely. It didn't take much to realize that his entire body was starting to shut down. All of his vitals were dangerously low. His pulse was thready, his breathing was shallow and his pallor was gray.

John's heart was too weak to deal with everything it had been through in the last few days. He couldn't handle another operation, he wouldn't even survive the anesthetic in the condition he was in. "Sister, get a lab tech in here, I'll need them to start a series of blood workups. He needs to have a sample taken once every hour until he improves."

He looked at the chart and was really worried about what he saw. It wasn't exactly spelled out, but it seemed that the specialist had pretty much given up on John and had written him off. Harry knew he was only a GP, but he wasn't ready to let John go yet. He had to keep trying. He walked over and took John's hand. "Stay with us old boy, you're too needed to go now. I promise you if you fight this, I'll be here by your side fighting with you the whole way." Just then the phlebotomist walked in to take John's blood samples.

Harry put John's hand down and walked out of the way. "I'll be outside talking to his family if you need me," he said to the private duty sister who had been assigned to John by the Brigadier. She nodded and Harry left the room.

Sarah Jane ran up to him as soon as she saw him. "How is he, Harry, can I see him now?"

"He's resting quietly at the moment. We've had to put a tube down his throat to help him breathe, we've given him an injection to keep his heartbeat more consistently, and I just gave him some epinephrine to help combat the reactions from whatever he got from that creature he bit," he said, watching Sarah's head bend down. "But I really think the best medicine he could have right now is you in there by his side."

Sarah smiled and gave Harry a hug. "Auntie, can the children stay with you while I go to see John."

"Certainly," said Lavinia. We'll sit out here together and talk, you just go in there and give John our love."

Sarah started to head into John's room, but before she could get there, the sister that was with him ran out of the room excitedly. She came up to Harry's side and whispered in his ear. Harry turned to Sarah and said, "Wait here," then dashed into the room.

The sister turned to the charge desk and said, "Code Blue."

The matron nodded and said, "Get the crash cart." Then she pushed a button and announced calmly. "Code Blue, CICU. Code Blue CICU."

A team of people came out of nowhere and headed into John's room, where a light was flashing over the top of the door.

Lavinia walked over to Sarah Jane and said nothing. She just took her into her arms and held her while she cried. Lisa Ann, Sid and Luke held onto her and their aunt as tightly as they could. Lisa Ann and Sid cried too.

Luke stood quietly. "Don't worry, mum, he'll come."

"What?" asked Sarah Jane. "Who'll come Luke?"

"The Doctor," Luke said. "I turned on the beacon. He'll hear it and he'll come."

Sarah put her arm around him and smiled faintly. "Please Luke, it's a lovely thought, but don't pin your hopes on the Doctor, you'll only get hurt."

"No, mum," he said, "I know he's going to come." He stared towards John's room. "He has to."

Harry walked slowly out of John's room. He looked over at Sarah Jane and pursed his lips. "Sarah Jane, can I speak to you alone, please?"

Sarah looked at his face and she had to make a conscious effort to make her legs move towards him. "Yes, Harry," she said, "is John going to be alright?

"Lavinia, it's going to be a little while," Harry said, "why don't you take the kids down to the cafeteria and get them some dinner."

"That sounds like a good idea," she said. "Come along, children, I don't know about you three, but I could really use a good strong cuppa right now." With that she herded them to the cafeteria.

Sarah looked at Harry and took a deep breath. "How bad is it?"

Harry took a deep breath too, and sat her down on a bench in the hallway. He sat down next to her and took her hands in his. "Now, Sarah, you know that it's been touch and go with John for a very long time. We've been very lucky that we didn't lose him that first year he was with us."

"Oh no, is he gone, Harry," she said barely able to breathe now.

He shook his head. "No, no, he's still hanging on. But it's not … it's not looking good. He's just been through so much. Your aunt confirmed that the microbes aren't actually trying to kill him. In fact, they need him alive as a host, so it was safe for us to tamp down his immune system to try and cut off this autoimmune reaction that was destroying him from the inside."

She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked Harry straight in the face. "What happens if the microbes take over John's body, Harry?"

"I'm afraid that's the least of our problems right now," he said gently. "He's just been through too much. His organs are failing, and there's not much that we can do, except to try and buy him a little more time and hope for a miracle."

"So you're saying that John is dying and his only chance is a miracle?" She put her head down and inside she was screaming. This was all wrong, the whole world had gone crazy. Why couldn't she wake up?

Harry was quiet for a moment. "I'm saying that we're going to put him on life support to try and buy him a little more time, and to try and give his poor body a chance to rest, and hopefully start repairing itself. It's all up to John now."

"Life support," she whispered. She thought about what that meant. There may come a time very soon when John's body would be alive and his wonderful, brilliant brain would be dead. Then they'd ask her to make the decision to disconnect the machine. She refused to believe he wouldn't make it. She thought of the way he looked before they made her leave his room and then she remembered the last words he said to her, "I think I'm dying, I'm so sorry." She put her hands up to her mouth. "Oh John," she said tears welling up and trickling down her face. "How long can he stay like that, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "There's no way to tell, I'm afraid. It could be hours, it could be days, he could rally and surprise all of us. There's just no way of knowing."

"Can I see him yet?"

"No, not for a little while. I think you should go take a break, maybe join Lavinia and the kids in the cafeteria, get something to eat."

"I don't think I can deal with that right now Harry, is there someplace quiet I can go and be alone for a while to pull myself together for the children?"

Harry thought for a minute. "Why don't I walk you down to the chapel? It'll be quiet in there."

"Sounds perfect, which way do I go to get there?"

Harry took her by the arm and led her downstairs and to the chapel door. "Are you going to be all right?"

Sarah Jane nodded. "I just want to sit her for a while by myself. I'll come back upstairs soon."

* * *

She walked in to the chapel and sat down quietly. She looked up at the non-denominational faux stained glass backlit window and sighed heavily. She felt so lost. For the first time she knew what it meant to be totally helpless. In every other situation in her life she always felt that she could do something, say something and it would make a difference.

She knew that if John were to be lost to her forever that it would turn her heart into stone. The thought of John having to depend on a machine that functioned for him made her angry. What could she say to her children? John had always been the one that gave them courage and hope. She gave them strength and determination. She felt so empty right now. Somehow she had to pull herself together for them.

Her thoughts wandered to Luke's face. He was so sure that the Doctor would come and somehow save John. He was going to get both of his little hearts broken when he didn't show up. The Doctor was a good man, but he never got that close to anyone.

She finally understood why the Doctor felt that way. The constant loss would have driven anyone mad. What a great weight he carried within him. How many losses had he been forced to deal with, she wondered. Funny, she mused, she hadn't thought of the Doctor in years. She knew it was only because Luke had mentioned trying to contact him. It would take a miracle. 'A miracle,' that's what Harry said they needed. "Just where can I find a miracle," she said out loud. She was filled with anger, frustration and fear.

"If you figure it out, I wish you'd let me know," a man said from the back of the chapel. He looked to be in his early 70s, but seemed much older, as though the years hung heavy around his neck. He sported several days of graying beard, and his eyes were rimmed red.


	19. Chapter 19

Sarah Jane jumped, then turned around. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I thought I was alone. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No, no," he said, standing and walking unsteadily towards the front of the chapel. "You sound like you're in the same boat. I didn't mean to disturb you. It's just …" He looked away for a moment, tears welling up. "Nobody really understands. They all say they do, and I know they're all hurting, but it's different when it's your spouse, you know?"

"Oh, believe me, I know. They just put my husband on life support." She put her head down and started crying. Somehow, saying it out loud had made it seem so much more real.

Tentatively, he sat down next to her. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." His hands were chapped from the weather and faintly stained with newsprint, and he wrung them almost unconsciously. "They want me to take my Eileen off life support. I just don't know … how can I …?" He cried with her for a few minutes.

"He's my whole life, how can anyone understand that? The trouble is, he's been my world for so long, I wouldn't know how to go on without him. Is it that way with you and your wife too?"

He nodded. "Fifty one years, we've known each other. One child, one granddaughter. One wonderful life together." He broke down again. "I wouldn't trade a second of it."

"We have three children, they're all still young enough to be living at home. I know I need to be strong for them, but I don't see how I can manage it. John's not gone yet, but it doesn't look like his chances are very good." She wiped her eyes and looked over at the man next to her. He looked as lost as she felt. "It sounds like your wife's condition is very bad too, I'm so sorry about that."

He nodded. "My daughter and granddaughter are up there saying goodbye to her now." He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry about your husband. I'm old, at least. I don't know what I would have done if I were young like you. To have to go on for so long without him…. I'm so sorry."

They sat quietly for a moment. "You know," he finally said, "I remember when my father died. I was just a lad then, and my mum told me something I've never forgotten. She told me that even when we lose someone, the love that you have for them never dies, and neither does the love they had for you. No matter how long you have to go on without them, that love is always going to be with you."

She sniffed. "Yes, well, John is still alive and right now I just want to go upstairs where he is and scream and shout at everyone up there to do something more to help him. He's slipping away and they won't even let me see him." Her whole body tensed. "We shouldn't be separated like this, not now, not when he needs me there with him. I'd make a tremendous scene but I can't, not with my children there depending on me."

"Why can't you?" he asked. "You're not making a scene, you're showing your children to stand up for what's right. There's nothing wrong with that. They need to see that you don't just lie down when it's important." He paused for a moment while she let that sink in. "Just don't punch anyone in the nose. They don't like that, and security down here is just mad. That's what I get for bringing her to a military hospital. But it's a trade-off, I suppose. They've got experts here, they said, so they said they'd try to treat her because I was in the war."

Sarah Jane smiled despite herself. She wished she could help this man somehow. "How old is your wife," she asked.

"Seventy-one," he said.

"I'll bet that she's a wonderful person. I can tell that just by talking to you." She bit her lip. "You know, I'm sort of a semi-retired investigative reporter and because of my work, I've learned to become a pretty good judge of people."

"You're right about Eileen." He smiled, just a little. "And what can you tell about me, then?"

She looked over at him, sizing him up. "Well, you are a kind hearted, loving man who is dedicated to his family. I'd say that family is always first in your life, in fact, it's what gives you your purpose in life." She looked closely at his eyes; they spoke volumes to her. "You are also very honest and outspoken, especially when you believe in a cause. You've had a tough time of it sometimes, but you survive because you draw courage from those you love," she smiled at him. "I'm sure that if someone is lucky enough to have you as a friend, they've always got someone to turn to. And, I bet like my husband, you're also the last person to give up on anyone. How did I do," she asked him.

Now he smiled a little more widely. "I guess that about sums me up. You're a pretty smart cookie there, aren't you? So tell me, what do you think it's all about?"

"Sorry, not sure what you mean," she said confused.

"Well, you must have gotten some kind of … answers to life." He squinted at her. "Don't tell me you got this far without learning something about the world, because I won't believe it."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," she laughed softly. She paused for a moment. 'Funny.' she thought, how she remembered so much in just an instant. "I have learned this," she said. "The quality of your life depends on how you affect the people in it. If you can leave someone feeling better than they did before you entered their lives, then you have made a difference. I can tell you too from experience, that what matters most is not how much you have loved, but how loved you have been." She shrugged. "I guess what I mean is, instead of striving for a better life, what you did to make another person's life better is what really matters." Suddenly she realized she owed the Doctor a tremendous thank you, and an apology.

She took the man's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sure your wife is like my husband in many ways. John is a quiet and modest man, but when I think of how helpful he's always tried to be to anyone one he meets, how he's always been the first to give someone a second chance or to reach out to anyone in need, then I know that I've been so blessed to be able to share my life with him."

"Then you're a very lucky girl," he said. "And I suppose I'm a very lucky old man."

Sarah smiled slightly and stuck out her hand to him. "Thanks, my name is Sarah Jane Tinker, by the way."

He took her hand. "Wilfred Mott." He stood up, still holding her hand. "I wish you all the best, Sarah Jane." He started to leave, then turned and looked back at her. "You know, I should thank you. You just reminded me of something. Eileen and I, we like to go down to the nursing home and visit the old people. One day I came down to see this bloke Nigel I'd been reading to and his room was empty. Well of course I knew what had happened and I said to the nurse, 'I don't know how you do it, losing people all the time.' You know what she said to me?"

She shook her head. "I wouldn't have the first idea."

"She said that they didn't look at it as taking care of people who were going to die. They looked at it as being midwives for people who were about to move on to something better."

Sarah Jane's eyes grew wide as what he has said sunk in. "Thank you for sharing that with me. It's one of the most beautiful things I could ever hope to hear. You know, meeting you has meant a lot to me. You've given me courage and helped me to realize what I need to do for my husband. You know, you sort of remind me of someone I used to be very close to. I haven't seen him in a long time and I'd almost forgotten how much his friendship brightened my life."

"I'm very glad to hear it. You've done me a world of good, Sarah Jane. Does my heart good to see young people like you going on and carrying the world." He smiled. "Look me up sometime, if you need to."

Sarah Jane smiled and nodded at him, looking back and waving as she headed for the elevator. "You know something, you're right about me letting my children see what's worth fighting for, and that's just what I'm going to do when I get back upstairs," she called back to him.


	20. Chapter 20

When Sarah got back to where John's room was she didn't bother talking to anyone. She just headed to the room and walked in. She didn't know what she was expecting, but to see him hooked up the the mechanical ventilator pulled at her till she thought she would break. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then drew closer to him. She stood there watching, staring at the tubes that were in his throat. She watched his chest rise up and down rhythmically.

Taking John's hand carefully she held it in hers and stared at it. "John, I don't know if you can hear me or not, but if you can, I want you to know how much I love you. No one has ever meant as much to me as you do. I only wish I could find a way to tell you…" She turned her head as the door opened and the Matron walked in.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but you've been told you can't be here now," she said softly but firmly. "Please leave until you have permission from the doctor on call to see your husband."

Sarah Jane shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, but I'm needed here, and I here I'm staying."

"Look dear, you don't want to cause a scene, now do you," she tried to reason with her. "That's not going to help anyone. It's only going to disturb your husband's rest, and besides that, what will your children think if they come back and Security has had to escort you out of here?" It was if she was trying to seem softer, but not quite succeeding. "Mrs. Tinker, I know you're afraid, but try to get a grip on yourself. You can't do any good here."

"I said no, I'm not going. It's wrong for anyone to try to keep me from being with John."

The matron walked up to Sarah Jane and put her hand on her shoulder and tried to lead her out of the room.

"I said I'm not leaving," Sarah said, prepared to stand her ground. "My husband needs me, and I am going to stay right here by him."

The matron didn't let go of Sarah's arm, but instead tugged at her harder. "I'm afraid that if you don't leave quietly, I **will** have to call a security guard and have you dragged out of here."

Sarah ignored her and stared at John. Since John had been hurt, she'd known that she belonged by his side, but she'd let everyone tell her differently and she had done as they asked. No more, if they were going to drag her out by force, she'd fight them with every ounce of strength she had in her. She was going to drink in every last moment with John that she could. She looked at his face as though she had never seen it before, memorizing every contour, every eyelash, every bit of stubble he'd grown since waking up to that phone call in the middle of the night.

She took John's hand gently once more, then leaned over and kissed him. "As I was saying, my love, I'm sorry that I stayed away so long. I was following the rules instead of my heart. I promise you, I'll never make that mistake again."

"It's all right, Matron," she heard, "I'll take care of it."

The Matron let go of her and she braced for a fight, gripping the bed rails as though they were all that kept her from dropping off a cliff.

A moment later she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's all right," a man's voice said, "I got your message."

She spun around to see a tall, slight man in a brown suit and a long brown coat.

She stared at him for a moment until what he said sunk in. Then she touched his face gently, not quite believing what she saw. He looked so much like John when she had first met him. But it wasn't John, though, and she did recognize this man. "Oh Doctor, is it really you?"

"I knew you'd recognize me," he smiled. "I was about to ask what the emergency was, but …" He pulled out the sonic screwdriver and waved it over John, then stared at it. "I can see pretty well for myself. Hmm." His brow furrowed. "Can't have that."

* * *

**[ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Now that's how it COULD have happened. Or maybe it was …]**

* * *

"It's all right, Matron," she heard, "I'll take care of it."

The Matron let go of her and she braced for a fight, gripping the bed rails as though they were all that kept her from dropping off a cliff.

"How's he doing?"

Sarah Jane suddenly relaxed, let go of the railing and turned towards the man who was speaking to her. "Oh Jack, I'm so glad to see you." She stood up and gave him a hug. "However did you get the matron to just leave like that? Never mind that, look, she's called Security to get me out of here, they'll be here soon, and I might as well warn you now, I intend to fight leaving with all my might."

"Don't worry, I've used my charm, and this -" he held up a badge "- to make her go away for now. Now this is important," he said urgently. "Where's the watch?"

* * *

**[ AUTHOR'S NOTE: OK, so what's going on here? Well, it's simple. You're getting two endings for the price of one. :)**

**Basically, when we started this story, it was with the full intention that John was, in fact, the Tenth Doctor. But as things went on, a funny thing happened. We got really attached to him - and many of you did, too. We've had amazing letters from people who've told us straight out that they DON'T WANT John to be the Doctor. (We even had one person who said they felt that John and Sarah were their OTP, a review that we treasure to this day.)**

**So we decided that we would give both camps what they want. Starting on Wednesday, we will run both endings weekly, with Ending 1 (Not the Doctor) on Wednesdays, and Ending 2 (Yes, the Doctor) on Saturdays.**

**Both endings will conform to the original challenge - to be consistent with not just what's come before in this series, but also with anything that appeared onscreen in Doctor Who.**

**We hope you'll enjoy it. ]**


End file.
